IC-NRLF 


A  SEA-CHANGE  ,; 

OR 

LOVE'S    STOWAWAY 

n  Hgncateti  farce 

TJV  TWO  ACTS  AND   AN  EPILOGUE 
BY 

W.    D,    HOWELLS 


OF  THF 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


BOSTON 

TlCKNOR    AND    COMPANY 
211,  Fremont  S 
1888 


COPYRIGHT,  1884  AND  188! 
BY    W.   D.   HOWELLS. 


RAND   AVERY    COMPANY, 

ELECTROTYPEKS   AND    I'KINTEKS, 

BOSTON. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

ACT    I.     LOVE'S    STOWAWAY          .         .        .  .     .        .5 

ACT  II.     MURIEL'S    DREAM         .        .         .      '  .         .         So 
EPILOGUE .147 


154774 


*>v 

OF  THF  \ 

UNIVERSITY  1 

or 
;MT£gN^X^ 

A   SEA-CHANGE 


ACT    I. 

LOVE'S    STOWAWAY. 

SCENE. —  The  promenade-deck  of  the  steamer  Mesopotamia, 
two  days  out  from  Boston.  It  is  morning,  before  break 
fast.  A  groiip  of  sailors  are  hauling  at  a  sheet ;  and  a 
sail  is  seen  rising,  with  an  audible  clucking  of  the  tackle. 

CHORUS    OF    SEAMEN. 

If    I  had  a  sweetheart,  and  she  was  a  rover, 

Haul  away,  boys,  haul  away ! 
I'd  follow  her  all  the  wide  world  over, 

Haul  away,  boys,  haul  away ! 

If  she  said  yes,  I  never  would  leave  her, 

Haul  away,  boys,  haul  away  ! 
If  she  said  no,  I  would  go  and  grieve  her, 

Haul  away,  boys,  haul  away ! 

5 


6  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

For  the  will  of  a  girl  there  is  never  any  knowing, 

Haul  away,  boys,  haul  away  ! 
She  would  want  me  to  stay  if  she  saw  me  going. 

Haul  away,  boys,  haul  away  ! 

Then,  never  say  die ;    keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  boys ; 

Haul  away,  haul,  haul  away ! 
The  wind  is  fair,  and  we've  got  a  good  ship,  boys, 

Haul  away,  haul,  haul  away  ! 

{The  Seamen  straggle  forward  over  the  deck,  singing.  Then 
THERON  GAY  steals  from  the  door  of  the  smoking-room, 
peering  fearfully  about  him.} 


THEROX,  recitative. 

A  surmise  or  suspicion, 

I  know  not  which  to  call  it, 

Possesses  me,  that,  without  my  intending, 

I  am  this  very  moment  emulating 

The  resolute  behavior 

Of  the  heroic  and  ideal  lover 

Whose  bold  philosophy  has  been  indicated 

In  the  soul-stirring  accents  of  the  chorus. 

Four  nights  ago,  sitting  among  the  flowers 
In  Mr.  Vane's  conservatory, 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  / 

I  told  my  love  to  Muriel  his  daughter. 
With  what  result  will  doubtless  be  conjectured 
When  I  have  added  that  I  took  my  passage 
By  the  first  steamer  I  could  get  for  Europe 
Early  the  following  morning. 

And  now,  there  are  circumstances 

Which  lead  me  to  imagine 

That  Muriel,  flying  from  ray  hated  presence, 

Has  taken  passage  on  this  very  steamer. 

Such  is  the  simple  and  probable  situation  ! 

But,  since  we  started,  we  have  all  been  sea-sick, 

And  hardly  any  of  us  has  been  able 

To  leave  his  state-room  ; 

And  it  has  been  impossible  to  make  certain 

Of  what  may  be  at  last  a  mere  conjecture. 

Yet  now  I  can  no  longer  bridle 

My  wild  impatience, 

And  I  will  ask  the  first  of  the  ship's  people 

Whom  I  encounter ; 

And  apropos  of  that,  just  as  it  happens 

Always  upon  the  stage  at  such  a  juncture, 

When  they  would  hold  the  mirror  up  to  nature, 

Here  comes  the  very  man,  above  all  others, 

Who  can  relieve  my  mind. 


8 


A   SEA-CHANGE. 


(The  DECK-STEWARD  appears  with  a  waiter,  and  a  tumbler 

of  lemonade  on  if.) 
I  will  accost  him. 
Steward  ! 

STEWARD. 
Yes,  sir.     Beg  your  pardon,  sir? 


THERON. 

What's  this?  The  sea's  like  glass  ;  the  ship's  as 
steady  as  a  rock ;  nobody's  sick  this  mornin^ 

O* 

surely  ? 

STEWARD,  confusedly. 

You're  quite  right,  sir.  It's  — it's  the  force  of 
'abit,  sir.  I'm  so  used  to  bringin'  lemonade  to 
the  ladies  stretched  about  'ere  on  deck  in  hevery 
hattitude  of  hagony,  that  I  just  came  hup  this 
mornin',  sir  — 

THERON,  sternly. 

Without  the  surgeon's  orders?  What  do  the 
rules  and  regulations  say,  which  are  printed,  glazed, 
and  framed,  and  hung  up  in  all  the  state-rooms  ? 


LOVE'S   STOWAWAY.  9 

STEWARD,    dropping   on    his   knees,   and  extending 
his    waiter    imploringly,  from    which    THERON 
mechanically  takes  the  lemonade,  and  drinks  it, 
setting  back  the  empty  glass. 
Don't  report  me,  sir  !     It  was  merely  the  force 

of  'abit. 

THERON,  aside. 

Now,  whether,  having  got  him  in  my  power, 

'Twere  better  throw  mysetf  upon  his  mercy, 

And  tell  him  all, 

Or  rather  try  finesse, 

And  lead  him  on, 

He  knows  not  how  or  whither, 

To  tell  me  what  I  wish? 

I  have  an  inspiration ; 

And,  as  might  naturally  be  expected 

Under  the  unexpected  circumstances, 

It  takes  the  lyric  form ;    and  I  will  sing  it. 

THERON,  —  An  Inspiration. 

Victim  of  what  box  soever, 

Wait  and  think  a  little,  pray, 
Ere  the  last  frail  tie  you  sever, 

Binding  you  to  silence  !     Stay, 

Do  not  give  yourself  away ! 


IO  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

If  the  simple  world  believes  you 

Wiser,  richer,  better,  say, 
Than  you  are,  although  it  grieves  you, 

Do  not  undeceive  it !     Stay, 

Do  not  give  yourself  away ! 

If  you  have  upon  your  conscience, 

Sins  that  struggle  to  the  day, 
Stay  !     Confession  would  be  nonscience  ; 

(So  pronounced  for  the  rhyme's  sake,  pray !) 

Do  not  give  yourself  away! 

If  your  note  falls  due  to-morrow, 
And  your  heart  sinks  in  dismay, 

Try  to  beg  or  steal  or  borrow, 
Ere  you  own  you  cannot  pay. 
Do  not  give  yourself  away ! 

If  you  adore  some  lovely  being, 

And  you  long  to  tell  her,  stay, 
Since  there  can  be  no  foreseeing 

That  she  will  not  answer  nay  ! 

Do  not  give  yourself  away ! 

If,  in  short,  the  cards  are  shuffled, 
So  that  you  hold  but  deuce  or  tray 

In  life's  game,  with  front  unruffled 
Wait,  and  let  your  opponent  play. 
Do  not  give  yourself  away ! 


LOVE 'S  STO  WA  WAY.  II 

THERON,  aside. 

I  cannot  say  just  whence  this  inspiration 
Came,  and  some  precepts  in  it 
Certainly  strike  me  as  being  rather  lurid. 
I  might  go  on  considerably  farther  ; 
But  I  have  said  enough  already 
Quite  to  decide  me  not  to  tell  this  steward 
Aught  of  myself,  but  rather  seek  to  pump  him. 
Steward  ! 

STEWARD. 

Beg  your  pardon,  sir? 

THERON. 

For  the    present   I   will   spare   you.     And  now, 

can    you    tell    me — (I    must   manage    this   with 

great  subtlety,  so  as  to  throw  him  off  his  guard) 

—  if  there  is  a  Miss    Muriel  Vane  of  Boston  on 

board  ? 

STEWARD. 

Well,  that,  sir,  is  a  question  which  I  can  honly 
hanswer  in  one  way,  sir. 

THERON. 

How  is  that? 


12  A    SEA-CHANGE, 

STEWARD. 

In  a  haria,  sir. 

THERON. 

What  is  a  haria? 

STEWARD. 

Haria?     Why,  haria  is  the  Hitalian  for  hair,  sir. 

f 

THERON. 

Hair? 

STEWARD. 

Yes,  sir;    in  a  hair,  sir.     A  song,  sir. 

THERON. 

Of  course.     I  expected  you  to  do  that.     People 
always  do.     Well? 

STEWARD,  —  Haria. 

I  am  a  simple  deck  steward, 
Life  has  left  me  to  leeward ! 

I  am  hold,  I  am  gray, 

I  am  sad,  well-a-day ! 
But  my  'eart  shall  be  hopen  to  youward. 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  13 

Welcome  were  sixpence  or  shilling; 
Ready  the  'and,  sir,  and  willing; 

Yet  the  truth  must  be  told, 

Though  for  touch  of  the  gold 
The  palm  may  be  throbbing  and  thrilling. 


THERON. 

And  what  am  I  to  infer  from  this  oracular 
rubbish  ? 

STEWARD. 

I  'adn't  quite  finished,  you  know,  sir. 

I  cannot  be  quite  explicit 
As  to  the  fact  you'd  elicit. 

There's  so  many  aboard, 

If  I  wentured  the  word, 
I  might  'it,  and  again  I  might  miss,  it. 

That  is,  I  can't  say  positively,  sir.  Most  of  the 
ladies  'as  kept  their  berths,  sir.  Sh  !  Somebody 
comin',  sir. 

THERON. 

Then,  I  must  conceal  myself!  It  is  the  only 
way. 


1 4  A    SKA-CHANGE. 

(He  re-enters  the  door  of  the  smoking-room.  From  the  door 
of  the  saloon  gangway  appear  two  maids,  carrying  shawls, 
rugs,  and  wraps  of  every  kind,  with  pillows  and  cushions  ; 
MRS.  VANE  with  a  Willotighby  pug  and  smelling-bottle  ; 
and  MR.  VANE  -with  a  foot-stool,  a  sun-umbrella,  and  a 
steamer-chair.  He  wearily  places  the  chair,  and  the 
maids  arrange  the  wraps  and  cushions  about  it,  while  the 
old  people  advance  and  sing.) 


MR.    AND    MRS.    VANE. 

Two  long  days  and  nights  of  dread  commotion, 
Tossing  on  a  couch  of  sleepless  anguish, 

Victim  of  the  wild  unresting  ocean, 

We  have  seen  our  hapless  daughter  languish. 

( They  take  hands,  and  chassez  gravely,  with  a  dignified  dan 
cing-step.  The  maids,  having  finished  their  work,  sing 
sotto-voce,  looking  over  the  shoulders  of  MR.  and  MRS. 
VANE.) 

THE  MAIDS. 

Two  long  days  and  nights  of  whim  and  notion. 
Twisting,  turning,  scolding,  crying,  fretting, 

We  have  seen  her  a  perpetual  motion 
Of  unreal  wants  and  vain  regretting. 

(They  make  a   saucy  dancing-step   on   each  side   of  the  old 
people.) 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  15 

MR.    AND    MRS.    VANE. 

He  who  would  persistently  adore  her, 

When  he  might  have  seen  she  could  not  pity, 

Left  her  with  no  choice  but  flight  before  her 
From  her  country  and  her  native  city. 

( They  dance  as  before?) 
THE    MAIDS. 

Spoiled  and  selfish  thing,  we  hope  'twill  please  her, 
Now  she's  left  her  true  and  faithful  lover. 

We  should  have  been  willing,  just  to  tease  her, 
If  it  had  been  rough  the  whole  way  over. 
(They  dance  as  before.} 

MRS.    VANE. 

Have  you  finished,  Mary? 

A 

MARY. 

Yes'm. 

MRS.    VANE. 

Is  every  thing  ready,  Sarah? 

SARAH. 

Quite  ready,  ma'am. 


i6 


A    SEA-CHANGE, 


MRS.    VANE. 

I  feel  as  if  nothing  had  been  done  for  the  poor 
child,  after  all.      What  have  we  done,  Matthew? 

MR.    VANE. 

We  have  secured  the  captain's  room  for  her. 

MRS.    VANE. 

Well? 

MR.    VANE. 

We   have    secured    the    purser's    room    for  our 
selves,  so  as  to  be  constantly  near  her. 

MRS.    VANE. 

.   Well? 

MR.    VANE. 

We  have  secured  the  seat  on  the  captain's  right 
at  table  for  her. 

MRS.    VANE. 

Well? 

MR.    VANE. 

We  have  secured    the    exclusive   attendance  of 
the  head  stewardess. 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  I/ 

MRS.    VANE. 

Well? 

MR.    VANE. 

We  have  secured  the  whole  time  and  services 
of  the  assistant  surgeon. 

MRS.    VANE. 

Well? 

MR.    VANE. 

In  short,  as  nearly  as  possible,  we  have  secured 
the  entire  ship  in  every  way. 

MRS.  VANE,  sighing. 
It  seems  very  little. 

MR.    VANE. 

It  is  very  little,  but  it's  all  we  could  do. 

MRS.    VANE. 

Well,  let  us  go  and  see  if  Muriel  can  be  per 
suaded  to  come  up.  Oh,  when  I  think  of  what 
the  child  has  undergone  !  And  all  from  that 
wretch  !  And  all  for  nothing: ! 


1 8  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

MR.   VANE. 

Well,  my  dear,  I  have  cheerfully  joined  you  in 
censuring  the  young  man  in  song  and  dance ; 
but  I  really  can't  see  that  he  was  so  very  much  to 
blame.  He  is  a  person  of  respectable  standing 
in  society. 

MRS.  VANE. 
Yes. 

MR.    VANE. 

He  was  graduated  at  Harvard  with  three  hon 
ors  :  Reading,  Writing,  and  Arithmetic,  I  believe 
they  were. 

MRS.  VANE. 
Yes. 

MR.    VANE. 

He  is  very  talented,  with  an  ambition  to  shine 
as  the  scholar  in  politics. 

MRS.    VANE. 

Yes. 

MR.    VANE. 

To  this  end  he  has  already  secured  a  position 
on  a  Sunday  paper  as  reporter,  with  a  salary  of 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  1 9 

ten'  dollars  a  week.  It  is  not  a  vast  sum  ;  but, 
having  a  great  deal  of  our  own,  we  naturally  de 
spise  money  in  others. 

MRS.  VANE. 
Yes. 

MR.    VANE. 

As  such  things  go,  he  is  in  the  way  to  promo 
tion.  In  less  than  twenty-five  years  he  might 
hope  to  be  an  Own  Correspondent,  with  fifteen 
dollars  a  week. 

MRS.  VANE. 
Yes. 

MR.    VANE. 

He  is  a  person  of  unblemished  character  and 
exceptionally  pleasing  manners.  In  dress  he  is  a 
gentleman,  —  an  American  gentleman  of  English 
pattern. 

MRS.    VANE. 

Yes. 

MR.    VANE. 

He  was  very  much  in  love  with  Muriel,  and 
it  is  customary  with  young  men  to  tell  their  love. 


20  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

MRS.    VANE. 

But  wholly  unnecessary  !  All  the  young  men 
were  in  love  with  Muriel,  but  none  of  them 
thought  it  necessary  to  tell  it.  Why  should  he  ? 


MR.  VANE,  with  conviction. 
True  ! 

MRS.    VANE. 

He  might  have  seen  how  sensitive,  how  high- 
spirited,  how  delicately  constituted  she  was,  how 
little  calculated  to  know  her  own  mind. 


MR.    VANE. 

Very  true  ! 

MRS.  VANE. 

He    might   have  known    that    it   would    be    ex 
tremely  repulsive  and  completely  prostrating. 


MR.    VANE. 

I  see. 

MRS.    VANE. 

But  he  was  not  even  satisfied  with  telling  Mu- 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  21 

rel  that  he  loved  her.     He  insisted  upon  knowing 
whether  she  loved  him. 

MR.  VANE. 
That  was  certainly  going  too  far. 

MRS.    VANE. 

The  child  had  no  alternative  but  flight,  and  — 
here  we  are  ! 

MR.  VANE. 

Perfectly  true  !     He  was  obviously  wrong.     But 
what  should  he  have  done? 

• 

MRS.    VANE. 

He  should  have  waited. 


MR.    VANE. 

Waited? 

MRS.    VANE. 

Yes. 

MR.    VANE. 

What  for? 


A    SEA-CHANGE. 
MRS.    VANE. 

For  —  for  a  more  fitting  opportunity. 


MR.    VANE. 


Oh  !    How  long? 


MRS.    VANE. 

Indefinitely.  Women  sometimes  have  to  wait 
all  their  lives.  Why  shouldn't  men  ? 

MR.  VANE. 
There's  a  great  deal  in  that. 

MRS.    VANE. 

Muriel  is  not  exacting.  Gratify  her  wishes,  few 
and  simple  as  they  always  are,  and  she  asks  noth 
ing  more.  But  come,  Matthew  !  The  child  will 
be  distracted  at  our  absence.  What  are  you  stop 
ping  for? 

MR.  VANE. 

Oh,  nothing  !  Merely  an  appropriate  little  ode 
that  I  thought  I  might  repeat.  But  no  matter  ! 

MRS.    VANE. 

Is  it  very  appropriate? 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  2$ 

MR.   VANE. 
Quite. 

MRS.  VANE,  with  resignation. 
Perhaps   you    had   better  repeat  it,  then.     You 
would  never  feel  easy  if  you  didn't. 

MR.  VANE. 
I  think  you  are  right,  my  dear. 

MR.  VANE,  —  A  Little   Ode. 

There  was  a  youth, 

He  loved  a  maid. 
He  spoke  the  truth, 

She  fled  affrayed. 

Had  he  forborne 

A  little  space, 
Fate  might  have  worn 

Another  face. 

In  later  mood 

It  might  have  fared, 
That  she  had  wooed, 

And  he  been  scared! 


24  A   SEA-CHANGE. 

MRS.    VANE. 

I    don't    think    any   thing   of    the    kind    would 
have  happened  with  Muriel. 

MR.    VANE. 

Very  possibly.  I  merely  throw  out  the  sugges 
tion. 

MRS.    VANE. 

Yes,  it  has  a  very  plausible  sound;  but  it's 
much  more  probable  that  she  would  never  have 
wooed  him. 

MR.    VANE. 

You  think  not?     But  why? 

MRS.    VANE. 

Because,  in    that  case,  there  would    have  been 
no  opera. 

MR.  VANE. 
That  hadn't  occurred  to  me. 

MRS.    VANE. 

Well,  come  now  !     Muriel  will  be  so  impatient  ! 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  2$ 

(As  the  VANES  go  below,  THERON  dashes  from  his  conceal 
ment  >  and  clutches  the  STEWARD  by  the  arm.} 

THERON,    Wildly. 

Who  —  who  —  is  this  young  lady  ? 


STEWARD. 

What  young  lady,  sir? 

• 

THERON. 

Don't  trifle  with  me  !  The  one  who  is  coming 
up. 

STEWARD. 

The  one  who  'as  taken  the  captain's  room? 

THERON. 

Yes  !     Her  name  ! 

STEWARD. 

I  'aven't  'appened  to  'ear  'er  name,  sir :  but  I 
'ave  a  list  of  the  cabin-passengers  'ere  in  my 
pocket,  sir ;  and  if  you'll  kindly  'old  this  waiter  a 
moment,  sir,  I'll  read  it  for  you. 


26  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

THERON,  taking  the  waiter. 

Be  quick  !  I  am  of  a  very  impulsive  nature, 
though  trained  in  the  school  of  indifferentism  at 
our  leading  university ;  and  I  may  not  be  able  to 
restrain  my  impatience. 

STEWARD. 

All  right,  sir  !  I've  got  it  !  'Ere  it  is  !  I  won't 
keep  you  a  moment,  sir.  (Unfolding  the  list.} 
Perhaps  you  would  like  to  'ave  me  sing  it,  sir? 

THERON. 
Do  you  ordinarily  sing  it? 

STEWARD. 

Well,  yes,  sir,  we  do,  sir,  on  this  ship,  sir.  The 
Mesopotamia  is  one  of  the  new  Retarders,  you 
know,  sir. 

THERON. 

Very  good,  then  !  I  should  much  prefer  you 
to  sing  it. 

(//-'  takes  a  shilling  from  his  pocket,  and  gives  it  to  him  with 
a  great  show  of  secrecy,  which  the  STEWARD  emulates  /> 
receiving  it.) 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  2/ 

STEWARD. 

Thank  you  kindly,  sir.  You  won't  forget  the 
pound  ten  at  the  hend  of  the  voyage,  will  you,  sir  ? 
Let  me  see  a  moment,  sir.  Oh,  yes  !  "  List  of 
saloon-passengers  per  steamship  Mesopotamia,  sail 
ing  from  Boston  to  Liverpool,  April  i,  1884. 

"  Mr.  Julian  Ammidown. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rufus^  Brown. 
Major  Connelly. 
Colonel  Donnelly. 
Mrs.  Susan  Dewell. 
Dr.  Jacob  Ewall. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fpllansbee. 
Mrs.  'Arris,  Miss  'Arrises  (three)  "  — 

Coin'  hout  to  heducate  'er  daughters  in  Paris, 
and  leavin'  Mr.  Haitch  to  supply  the  funds  at 
'ome,  I  suppose. 

THERON. 

It  is  the  national  custom.     Go  on. 

STEWARD. 

All  right,  sir. 

"Mr.  Ingham  and  Mr.  Jones"  — 


28  A   SEA^CHANGE. 

THERON. 

No,  no  !  Stop  !  I  thought  I  could  bear  it  for 
the  sake  of  the  effect,  and  the  resemblance  to 
Leporello's  list  in  Don  Giovanni ;  but  I  can't. 
Skip  the  rest  of  the  alphabet,  and  get  down  to 
the  V's  at  once  ! 

STEWARD. 
"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Matthew  Vane  "  — 

THERON. 

O  my  heart,  burst  not  in  twain ! 

STEWARD. 

"  Miss  Muriel  Vane,  two  maids  and  pug. 
Rev.  Dr.  Silas  Wrugg." 

THERON,  dropping  the  waiter. 

Wait !  Stop  !  Hold  on  !  It  is  she  !  I  knew 
it  as  soon  as  I  recognized  her  parents'  voices 
in  my  place  of  concealment. 

STEWARD,  starting  back. 
Then  you  are  — 


L  O  VE  'S  S TO  WA  WA  Y.  29 

THERON. 

A  stowaway  ! 

STEWARD. 

Very  sorry,  sir ;  but  I  shall  be  obliged  to  report 
you. 

(He  picks  tip    the  fragments   of  the    tumbler,  and  replaces 
them  on  the  waiter.) 

THERQN. 

Report  me  !     And  after  I  have  spared  you  ? 

STEWARD. 

Well,  you  see,  sir,  a  stowaway  is  very  different, 
sir.     The  rules  are  very  strict  about  reportin'  'em, 
sir.     You'll  be  put  in  hirons,  and  sent  back  from 
Liverpool  by  the  first  return  steamer. 
(He  winks,  and  wags  his   hand  behind  him  for  money'.} 

THERON. 

Irons?     Are  you  open  to  bribery? 

(The  STEWARD  turns  round,  wagging  his  hand.     THERON 
continues  aside.) 

And  am    I    the    slave  of    this   corrupt    person? 
Subject  to  the  beck  and  call  of  a  deck  steward  ? 


3°  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

A  thought  strikes  me  !  (Aloud.)  But  I  am  not 
a  common  stowaway,  —  not  one  of  those  pitiful 
wretches,  who,  dying  of  poverty  and  homesickness 
in  a  foreign  land,  basely  seek  to  return  to  friends 
and  country  at  the  expense  of  the  company.  My 
passage  has  been  fully  paid,  and  I  occupy  Berth 
8 1  on  the  saloon-deck.  Listen,  and  I  will  tell 
you  all.  I  — 

STEWARD. 

I  beg  your  pardon,  sir  ! 

THERON. 

Well? 

STEWARD. 

I  beg  your  pardon,  sir;  but  don't  you  think 
you'd  better  sing  it?  It's  rather  more  the  custom, 
sir.  I  beg  your  pardon  ! 

THERON. 

Of  course.  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  that 
myself. 

STEWARD. 

It  would  be  a  little  more  in  keepin',  sir.  A 
great  many  gentlemen  'ave  confided  their  'eart 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY,  31 

'istories  to  me,  sir ;  and  they  halways  sung  them, 
sir.  Many's  the  'alf  crown  I've  'ad  from  them, 
sir,  for  listenin'. 

THERON,  giving  him  money. 

Very  well. 

(He  sings.) 

I  am  Love's  Stowaway  — 

STEWARD,  interrupting. 

I  beg  your  pardon,  sir ;  but  don't  you  think 
you'd  better  wait  for  the  chorus?  It's  just  comin' 
hup,  sir.  The  lookout  'as  sighted  a  hiceberg,  and 
the  chorus  is  comin'  hup  to  see  it. 

THERON. 

But  I  thought  I  heard  a  chorus  at  the  begin 
ning  of  the  piece. 

STEWARD. 

So  you  did,  sir.  That  was  the  Chorus  of  Sea 
men.  We've  got  two  choruses  on  the  Mesopo 
tamia.  The  hold  boats  honly  'ad  one.  This 
chorus  is  a  Chorus  of  Passengers. 


32  A   SEA-CHANGE. 

THERON. 

Oh,    well !    if    it's   a   cliorus    of  ^/^-passen 
gers — 

STEWARD. 

It  is,  sir. 

THERON. 

Then,  I  don't  mind  waiting   a  reasonable  time 
for  them  ;    but  they  mustn't  be  long. 

STEWARD. 

They   won't    keep   you    a    moment,    sir.       'Ere 
they  come  now,  sir. 

(Enter  CHORUS  OF  PASSENGERS,  singing  by 

GROUP   OF   GENTLEMEN   PASSENGERS. 
We  are  lawyers  and  physicians, 
Bankers,  brokers,  electricians, 
Publishers  and  politicians, 
Editors,  professors,  students 
Of  all  kinds,  whom  our  imprudence, 

In  the  mad  pursuit  of  wealth, 
Has  compelled,  for  relaxation, 
To  endure  a  brief  vacation  ; 

And  we  all  are  going  over  for  our  health. 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  33 

But  whatever  be  our  station, 
Our  profession  or  vocation, 

Our  politics,  our  objects,  our  ideals,  and  the  rest, 
Love  alone,  and  love  supremely, 
Love  alone,  and  love  extremely, 
Is  our  life's  great  interest! 


ALL. 


Yes,  our  life's  great  interest ! 

GROUP   OF    FASHIONABLE    LADIES. 

We  are  daughters,  wives,  and  mothers 
To  these  gentlemen  and  brothers, 
Whom,  with  very  many  others, 
Our  expensive  tastes  and  passions, 
Our  caprices  and  our  fashions, 

Goaded  in  pursuit  of  wealth  ; 
But,  worn  out  with  the  enjoyment 
Which  has  formed  our  sole  employment, 

Now  we  all  are  going  over  for  our  health ; 
And  whatever  be  the  notion 
Of  womanhood's  devotion 

To  such  objects  and  ambitions  as  have  .our  souls 

possest, 

Love  alone,  and  love  supremely, 
Love  alone,  and  love  extremely, 

Is  our  life's  great  interest. 


34  A   SEA-CHANGE. 

ALL. 

Yes,  our  life's  great  interest ! 

GROUP   OF   MERCHANTS    RETURNING    FROM  THE  BOSTON 
FOREIGN    EXHIBITION. 

Russians,  Polacks,  Turks,  Armenians, 
Hindoos,  Arabs,  and  Athenians, 
Chinese,  Japs,  and  Abyssinians, 
Germans,  Frenchmen,  and  Egyptians, 
Orientals  of  all  descriptions, 

From  the  mad  pursuit  of  wealth, 
In  the  city  of  the  Yankees, 
Hardly -richer  ev'n  in  Thank'ees, 

We  are  flying  homeward  for  our  health. 
But  whatever  be  the  fraction, 
Division  or  subtraction, 

Of  the  general  sum-total  as  in  numerals  exprest, 
Love  alone,  and  love  supremely, 
Love  alone,  and  love  extremely, 

Is  our  life's  great  interest. 

ALL. 

Yes,  our  life's  great  interest! 

GROUP   OF    SHOP-GIRLS. 

We  are  some  of  the  sales-ladies  — 
Minnies,  Mamies,  Susies,  Sadies  — 
From  the  famous  house  whose  trade  is 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  35 

The  distinction  and  the  glory 
Of  all  modern  retail  story; 

And  from  its  abundant  wealth, 
As  a  novel  advertisement 
Of  ingenious  devisement, 

It  is  sending  us  all  over  for  our  health. 
But  whatever  were  its  motive, 
A  business  one  or  votive, 

In  despatching  us  so  unexpectedly  upon  this  quest, 
Love  alone,  and  love  supremejy, 
Love  alone,  and  love  extremely, 

Is  our  life's  great  interest. 

ALL. 

Yes,  our  life's  great  interest! 

ALL   THE    LADIES. 

But  we  see  no  iceberg  ! 

STEWARD. 

It's  pretty  low  down  yet,  ladies.  (To  THERON.) 
Now's  your  time,  sir  !  I  told  you  they  wouldn't 
be  long,  sir  ! 

THERON,  giving  him  money. 

I  shall  never  forget  your  thoughtful  kindness  in 
procuring  me  this  sympathetic  audience. 


36  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

ONE  OF  THE  LADIES,  recitative. 
And  who,  pray,  is  this  gentleman  we  see  here,  — 
With  us,  although  apparently  not  of  us? 

THERON. 

Ladies,  if  you  will    allow  me,  I   will    introduce 
myself. 

THERON,  —  A    Confession. 
I  am  Love's  Stowaway! 

Love  lured  me  from  my  home, 
And  far  across  the  wandering  foam 
He  bade  me  stray. 

I  am  Love's  Stowaway  ! 

He  chose  the  fated  bark; 

And,  darkly  plotting  in  the  dark, 
He  did  betray. 

I  am  Love's  Stowaway  ! 
And,  where  my  love  was  hid, 
I  followed  blind,  as  blind  Love  bid  : 

I  must  obey. 

I  am  Love's  Stowaway ! 

And  here  my  love  and  I 

Together  from  each  other  fly, 
The  self-same  way ! 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  37 

(TilERON  is  about  to  continue  his  song,  when  enter  MURIEL 
•with  her  father  and  mother,  maids  and  pug.} 

ONE  OF  THE  CHORUS,  recitative. 
Wait  !     Stop  !     Excuse  the  seeming  interruption  ! 
We  think  the  lady  wishes  to  say  something. 

MURIEL,  recitative. 

Merely  to  make  a  personal -explanation, 
Such  as,  in  good  society,  is  usual 
On  mingling  with  a  company  of  strangers. 

MURIEL,  —  A  Statement. 

I  am  a  member  of  that  Aristocracy, 
Wholly  composed 'of  the  lovelier  sex, 

Which,  in  the  heart  of  our  New- World  Democracy, 
Reigns,  the  observer  to  please  and  perplex. 

Since  I  was  born,  well,  I  do  not  think,  really, 
That  I  have  been  of  the  least  use  on  earth  : 

All  has  been  done  that  could  be  done,  ideally, 
Utterly  useless  to  make  me  from  birth. 

Never  a  wish  that  was  not  at  once  gratified; 

Nothing  refused  me  that  money  could  buy; 
All  my  opinions  respected  and  ratified, 

Since  I  could  utter  the  first  in  a  cry; 


38  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

Flattered,  deferred  to,  obeyed  in  society 
Like  a  young  princess  come  into  her  own  ; 

Free  to  do  all  that  I  would  to  satiety  ; 
Law  to  myself,  first  and  last,  and  alone  ; 

Dressed  like  one  born  to  the  purple  imperial ; 

Housed  like  a  duchess,  and  served  like  a  lord  ; 
And,  like  the  heroine  of  a  cheap  serial, 

By  all  that  looked  at  me  wildly  adored  ; 

I  am  a  member  of  that  Aristocracy, 
Wholly  composed  of  the  lovelier  sex, 

Which,  in  the  heart  of  our  New-World  Democracy 
Reigns,  the  observer  to  please  and  perplex. 

And  the  great  wonder  is,  not  that  I'm  odious  — 

CHORUS    OF    ALL   THE    MEN. 

No,  we  don't  think  you  so  !     Nobody  could ! 
No,  we  make  protest  in  accents  melodious  ! 

MURIEL. 
Thanks.     You  are  all,  I  am  sure,  very  good. 

Well,  then,  the  miracle  is,  that  the  wealthily 

Born  and  conditioned  American  girl, 
Placed,  as  to  all  things  that  spoil,  so  unhealthily, 

Never's  the  Oyster,  but  always  the  Pearl. 


LO  VE  'S  STO  WA  WA  Y.  39 

(She  sinks  into  her  steamer-chair,  where  the  two  maids 
elaborately  arrange  her.  THERON  stealthily  retires  toward 
the  door  of  the  smoking-room,  and  the  CHORUS  gradu 
ally  withdraw.  MURIEL  remains  with  her  party  and  the 
STEWARD.) 

MRS.    VANE. 

How  do  you  feel  now,  dear? 

MURIEL. 

So  much  better,  mamma,  thank  you.  How  nice 
the  air  is  !  Mamma  ! 

MRS.    VANE. 

Yes,  dear? 

MURIEL. 

Would  you  mind  just  looking  in  my  jewelry- 
case  for  poor  Carlino's  best  collar?  He's  so 
shabby  in  this  old  thing  ! 

MRS.  VANE,  kissing  her. 
I'm  so  glad    to  see    you    taking   an    interest  in 

life  again.     I'll  be  back  instantly. 

{Exit. 

MR.    VANE. 

Are  you  sure  you're  perfectly  comfortable,  my 
child? 


40  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

MURIEL. 
Oh,  perfectly,  papa  !     Papa  ! 

MR.    VANE. 

Yes,  my  child? 

MURIEL. 

I  hate  to  be  so  much  bother;  but  there's  no 
one  else  I  could  trust  to  bring  me  —  let  me  see  ! 
-  my  other  earrings.  I  put  on  these  drops  never 
thinking,  and  diamonds  are  shocking  before  break 
fast.  (She  takes  them  out,  and  hands  them  to 
her  father.)  It's  too  bad,  sending  you,  papa! 

MR.    VANE. 

My  child    (kissing  her),  you    know  how  happy 
it  makes  me  to  do  any  thing  for  you. 

[Exit. 


MURIEL. 

Sarah  ! 


SARAH. 

Yes,  Miss  Muriel? 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  41 

MURIEL,  taking  a  bracelet  from  her  wrist,  and  giv 
ing  it  to   SARAH. 

I've  been  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to  you.  Here's 
a  little  thing —  I  know  you  admire  it.  I've  seen 
you  looking  at  it. 

SARAH. 

O  Miss  Muriel!  what  shall  I  do?  (And  me 
been  saying  such  awful  things  about  the  poor, 
dear,  pretty  creature  !) 

MURIEL. 
Nothing,  please.     Sarah  ! 

SARAH. 

Y.es,  Miss  Muriel? 

MURIEL. 

Do  you  suppose  you  could  —  wait  a  moment  till 
I  can  think.  Oh  !  —  find  me  a  lighter  handker 
chief  ?  This  is  so  heavy  !  It  fatigues  me. 

SARAH. 

Why,  Miss  Muriel,  I'd  jump  overboard  for  you  ! 

[Exit. 


42  A   SEA-CHANGE. 

MURIEL. 

Mary  ! 

MARY. 

Yes,  Miss  'Muriel? 

MURIEL,  taking  a  brooch  from  her  neck,  and  hand 
ing  it  to  her. 

Don't  thank  me,  please.     And  —  Mary  ! 

MARY. 
Yes,  Miss  Muriel? 

MURIEL, 

Do  you  think  you  could  go  away,  and  stay  a 
little  while,  without  any  particular  excuse  ?  It's  so 
tiresome  making  them  ! 

MARY. 

Why,  of  course  I  can,  Miss  Muriel.  And  you're 
the  sweetest,  sensiblest,  untroublesomest  young 
lady  in  this  world  !  And  I  won't  come  about  the 
whole  day  again  ! 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  43 

MURIEL,  with  a  sigh. 
Now,  Steward,  we    are    alone.     Have  you   any 

first  name? 

STEWARD. 

Why,  miss,  I  'aven't  'ardly  any  last  name. 
I'm  Robert,  miss. 

MURIEL. 

Well,  Robert,  I  can  see  that  you  have  a  heart. 

STEWARD. 

I  'ave,  miss.  Hall  the  stewards  on  the  Meso 
potamia  'as  'em,  miss.  The  captain,  and  the 
hofficer  on  duty,  and  the  'ole  crew,  'as  'em. 
'Earts,  and  electric  lights,  set  bowls,  and  annun- 
cihators  in  all  the  state-rooms.  Any  little  thing 
I  could  bring  you,  miss? 

MURIEL. 

No,  Robert,  not  at  present.  I  have  no  appe 
tite. 

STEWARD. 

But  your  happetite  will  come  back  now.  You 
won't  be  hill  any  more.  Was  you_  pretty  bad, 
miss?  X^^^fSs. 

ff  OF  THF     *A 

(  UNIVERSITY  1 


44  A   SEA-CtlANGE. 

MURIEL. 

The  sea-sickness  was  the  least  part  of  it  {sigh 
ing)  ;    though  I  was  sick.     Yes.     But,  Robert ! 


STEWARD. 

Yes,  miss? 

MURIEL. 

What  were  all    those    people   doing   here  when 
I  came  up? 

STEWARD. 

It   was    honly  the    chorus    of  passengers,  miss, 
who  'ad  come  hup  to  see  the  hiceburg. 

MURIEL. 

Oh!     And  who  was  the  young,  gentleman  who 
appeared  to  be  singing  to  them? 

STEWARD. 

Why,  he  was  tellin'  hall  about  'imself,  miss,  in 
the  song. 

MURIEL. 

Oh,  I  dare  say  !     But  you  never  can  make  out 
the  words,  and  I  had  no  libretto.     (After  a  mo- 


L O  VE  'S  STO IV A  WA  Y.  45 

ment,  musingly.)  There  was  something  strangely 
familiar  in  his  voice  and  figure.  But,  of  course, 
it  could  not  be. 

MURIEL,  —  A  Misgiving. 

I  must  not,  I  dare  not,  imagine  it  he, 

In  his  love  and  his  sorrow  forsaken  ; 
Though,  if  we  were  not  such  a  distance  at  sea, 

I  should  say  that  I  was  not  mistaken. 

The  form  and  the  face  were  the  same ;  but,  ah,  me  ! 

Divided  by  many  a  billow, 
I  make  my  moan  to  the  pitiless  sea, 

And  he  sighs  under  the  willow. 

My  moans  cannot  reach  him,  my  love,  where  he  sighs 

In  metaphor  under  the  willow  : 
The  voice  of  his  sorrow  inaudible  dies, 

Where  I  toss  on  the  wandering  billow. 

But  I  thought  for  a  moment  —  a  breath,  —  it   might 
be 

That  I  really  was  not  mistaken, 
Although  such  a  very  great  distance  at  sea, 

In  my  pride  and  my  folly  forsaken. 

He  sang  very  well,  I  fancied. 


46  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

STEWARD,  with  musical  reluctance. 

Well,  honly  tolerable,  miss.  We've  'ad  a  great 
many  tenors  on  the  Mesopotamia. 

MURIEL. 

Yes ;  but  his  voice  had  a  certain  sympathetic 
quality,  —  a  brio,  a  timbre  — 

STEWARD. 

Very  true,  miss ;  but  it  was  very  thin  in  the 
hupper  notes. 

MURIEL. 

Oh,  it  wasn't  perfect,  I  suppose  !  Do  you  hap 
pen  to  know  his  name,  Robert? 

STEWARD. 

Well,  no,  miss,  I  don't  know  'is  name :  but 
I've  got  my  list  of  the  passengers  'ere ;  and  if 
you'll  kindly  'old  my  waiter,  miss  (he  gives  it  to 
her,  with  the  fragments  of  the  tumbler  on  it),  I'll 
read  it  hover  to  you. 

MURIEL. 
You  are  very  good,  Robert. 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  47 

STEWARD. 

Or,  what    do   you    say,  as   you    seem    to    be   a 
connyshure,  miss,  to  my  singin'  it? 

MURIEL. 
Do  you  sometimes  sing  it? 

STEWARD. 

Yes,  miss,  I  generally  sing  it. 

MURIEL. 

I  shall  be  delighted. 

STEWARD,  singing. 

"  Mr.  Julian  Ammidown. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rufus  Brown. 
Major  Connelly. 
Colonel  Donnelly. 
Mrs.  Susan  Dewell. 
Dr.  Jacob  Ewall. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Follansbee. 
Mrs.  'Arris,  Miss  'Arrises  (three) "- 

Oh  !  Beg  your  pardon,  miss  !  'Ere's  a  name  I 
missed  once  before  between  the  Hefs  and  the 
Haitches,  — 

"Mr.  Theron  Gay"  — 


48  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

MURIEL,  flinging  tJie  waiter  from  her,  and  bursting 
wildly  from  her  chair,  with  her  hands  to  her 
temples. 

Theron  ! 

THERON,  rushing  from    tJie  door  of  tJie   smoking- 
room. 

Muriel ! 

( They  fly  into  each  other's  arms,  and  sing.) 

MURIEL   AND   THERON,  —  A     Collision. 

MURIEL. 

Oh,  if  you  be  some  fond  and  dear  illusion, 

Some  blessed  dream, 
Born  of  the  brain's  fantastical  confusion, 
Be  what  you  seem  ! 

Stay  with  me,  stay, 
Fade  not  away, 
Oh,  dearly  loved  illusion  ! 

THERON. 

I  am  no  vision,  no  hallucination  : 

Be  not  afraid  ! 
Wholly  unchanged  in  substance  and  formation, 

I  could  not  fade, 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  49 

My  love,  my  bride, 
Ev'n  if  I  tried, 
Like  an  hallucination  ! 

MURIEL,  with  dignity. 

Then,  if  you  are  really  Mr.  Theron  Gay,  of 
Boston,  Mass.,  I  must  ask  you,  as  a  gentleman, 
to  leave  me. 

THERON,  astounded. 

Leave  you,  Muriel?  But  you  just  requested 
me  to  remain  ! 

MURIEL. 

That  was  under  the  impression  that  you  were 
a  pleasing  unreality.  I  was  very  explicit. 

THERON. 

And,  as  a  reality,  am  I  so  unpleasing? 

MURIEL. 

That  is  not  the  question.  You  must  release 
me. 

THERON. 

If  you  insist.     But  why? 

MURIEL. 

For  one  thing,  it  is  essential  to  the  plot. 


50  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

THERON,  releasing  her. 

Oh  !  if  it  is  essential  to  the  plot,  of  course  I 
must  yield.  The  literary  instinct  teaches  that. 

MURIEL. 

And,  besides,  you  have  no  right  to  be  here. 
You  had  no  right  to  follow  me.  Especially  on 
the  same  steamer. 

THERON. 

But,  my  love,  I  didn't  know  you  were  on  board. 
That  is  the  strangest  part  of  it.  I  fled,  in  my 
madness  and  despair,  by  the  first  steamer  I  could 
get.  It  happened  to  be  the  very  ship  you  had 
embarked  in.  {Tenderly.}  Cannot  you  recog 
nize  some  design  of  Fate  in  this  coincidence, 
Muriel? 

MURIEL. 

If  it  is,  as  you  say,  purely  an  accident  — 

THERON. 

Oh,  it  is  ! 

MURIEL. 

Then  I  forgive  you,  but  on  condition  that  you 
go  ashore  instantly. 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  51 

THERON. 
Why,  but,  Muriel  — 

MURIEL. 

Don't  reply  !  I  simply  ask  you,  as  a  gentleman, 
to  go  ashore,  and  not  persist  in  attentions  which 
you  must  see  are  very  disagreeable.  (She  returns 
to  her  steamer-chair,  and  talks  wJiile  he  makes  her 
comfortable  in  it  with  tlie  shawls,  cushions,  and 
wraps.}  I  will  not  ask  you  how  it  is  that  you 
came  to  choose  this  ship  — 

THERON. 

It  was  a  fatality.  Will  you  have  this  shawl  over 
your  feet? 

MURIEL. 

Yes,  thank  you.  And  I  will  not  imply  that  you 
knew  very  well  I  was  on  board. 

THERON. 

Oh,  I  swear  to  you  that  it  would  be  doing  me 
serious  injustice  !  I  had  scarcely  any  idea  of  it. 
(Fitting  a  cushion  to  her  sho >  aiders.}  Is  that 
comfortable  ? 


52  A    SEA-CHANGE. 


MURIEL. 


Perfectly,  thanks.  I  will  not  insinuate  that  you 
have  been  planning  this  interview  ever  since  you 
knew  I  was  here,  helpless  and  defenceless. 

THERON. 

Oh,  never !  Will  you  have  the  pug  in  your 
lap,  or  in  your  arms? 

MURIEL. 

In  my  arms,  please.  You  are  very  kind,  I'm 
sure,  and  I'm  quite  ashamed  to  give  you  so  much 
trouble  ;  but  I  will  merely  say,  that,  if  you  have  a 
spark  of  honorable  feeling,  you  will  go  ashore  at 
once.  I  will  be  calm,  I  will  be  reasonable  •  but 
you  must  go. 

THERON. 

Why,  but,  Muriel,  it's  quite  impossible  !  We 
are  forty-eight  hours  out  from  Boston  ;  and,  even 
at  the  comparatively  low  rate  of  speed  charac 
teristic  of  the  Retarders,  we  must  be  two  or 
three  hundred  miles  at  sea.  I  would  do  any 
thing  to  oblige  a  lady,  any  thing  to  gratify  my 
dearest  love ;  but,  at  the  moment,  I  find  it  quite 
impracticable  to  go  ashore. 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  53 

MURIEL. 
You  will  not? 

THERON. 

I  cannot ! 

MURIEL. 

Then,  I  shall  simply  go  wild. 

MURIEL,  THERON,  STEWARD,  —  A  Delirium. 

Yes,  I  shall  go  wild! 
Befooled,  beguiled, 

Followed  afar  in  my  flight  by  insolent  treason, 
I  call,  with  the  last  ray  of  reason, 
Papa ! 
Mamma  ! 
Come  to  your  child  ! 

THERON. 

No,  do  not  go  wild : 
You  are  not  beguiled  ! 

Hear    me,    my   loved    one,    my   only   one,    listen    to 
reason  ! 

I  am  wholly  guiltless  of  treason. 
Papa  ! 
Mamma  ! 
Come  to  your  child  ! 


54 


A    SEA-CHANGE. 


STEWARD. 

They  both  will  go  wild. 
He,  unjustly  reviled, 

Cannot  convince  her  that  he  is  guiltless  of  treason, 
Cannot  make  her  listen  to  reason. 
Papa ! 
Mamma ! 

Come  to  your  child  ! 

(MR.  and  MRS.  VANE  rush  distractedly  on  deck,  with  the 
CHORUS  OF  PASSENGERS,  all  bringing  life-preservers.) 

MR.    VANE. 

Mamma ! 

MRS.    VANE. 

Papa! 

BOTH. 

We  come  to  you,  child  ! 

CHORUS. 

Papa ! 
Mamma! 
Come  to  your  child  ! 

MRS.    VANE. 

Oh  !    what  is  it,  my  precious  one  ? 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  55 

MR.  VANE. 
My  child,  what  is  it? 

CHORUS. 

Is  it  an  iceberg? 

( They  get  out  their  opera-glasses.) 

THERON,  with  exasperation. 
No  :  it  is  an  ice  girl  ! 

CHORUS. 

A  nice  girl? 

THERON. 

Yes,  an  ice  girl  f 

CHORUS. 

Oh,  no  puns  ! 
We  are  not  the  ones 
To  be  amused  with  trivial  word-play  of  that  kind. 

THERON,  furiously. 

I  said  a  girl  of  ice, 
Not  a  girl  that  is  nice. 
To  any  sort  of  jesting  I  am  not  now  inclined. 


5 6  A    SEA-CHAATGE. 

MURIEL,  clinging  to  a  hand  of  each. 

0  papa  !     O  mamma  !     See  !     It's  Theron  ! 

MRS.  VANE,  putting  on  her  glasses. 
It  is  indeed  !     Wretch  !     How  came  he  here  ? 

MR.  VANE,  putting  on  his  glasses. 

Upon    my  word,  so  it   is.     Mr.  Gay,  you  must 
be  aware  that  this  is  very  —  very  — 

MRS.    VANE. 

Use  some  violent  expression,  Matthew  ! 

MR.    VANE. 

1  will,  my  dear,  —  unexpected  ! 

THERON. 

I  know  it,  Mr.  Vane.     It's  quite  unintentional. 

MRS.    VANE. 

Oh  !     Unintentional  ! 

MURIEL,  faintly. 
Don't  be  harsh  with  him,  mamma.     But  when 


L O  VE  'S  S TO  \VA  IV A  Y.  5  / 

I  simply  asked  him,  as  a  gentleman,  to  go  ashore, 
and  leave  me  — 

MRS.    VANE. 

He  refused? 

MURIEL. 

He  said  he  couldn't. 

MRS.    VANE. 

A  likely  story  !  Where  is  the  captain  ?  I  will 
see  the  captain  about  this.  (Running,  and  shak 
ing  her  parasol  at  the  man  at  tlie  wheel.}  Oh  — 
ah  !  My  good  man  ! 

MAN  AT  THE  WHEEL,  looking  round. 
Ay,  ay,  ma'am  ! 

MRS.    VANE. 

Where  is  the  captain? 

MAN    AT   THE    WHEEL. 

He's    down    in   the    boiler-room,  ma'am,  takin' 
the  reck'nin'. 

MRS.    VANE. 

Send  him  here  at  once. 


5  A   SEA-CJ/AXGE. 

MAN    AT   THE    WHEEL. 

Ay,  ay,  ma'am  ! 

(Recitative  doivn  speaking-tube  ) 

Captain,  you're  wanted  here  !     And  I  may  hadd, 

sir, 

Seems  a  young  lady,  taken  wery  bad,  sir. 
I  can't  just  tell  you  if  there's  need  to  worry, 
But  the  young  lady's  mother  says  to  'urry. 
(7^e  CAPTAIN  appears  on  deck  instantly,  with  a  sextant  in 

his  hands,  a   telescope  under  one  arm,  and  a   speaking- 

trumpet  under  the  other.} 

CAPTAIN,  —  An  Explanation. 

I  am  the  Mesopotamia's  very  obliging  commander; 
And   I  will  say  it,  with  whom  boasting  was  never 

the  wont, 
No  swifter  craft  than  this  has  swum  the   seas  since 

Leancler 
Executed  his  famed  feat  on  the  dark  Hellespont. 

No,  the  Mesopotamia  is  not  an  old-time  Retarder, 
Such  as  we  read  of   once  in  the  American  press, 

Flabby  and  flat  in  cuisine,  and  frowsy  in  state-room 

and  larder, 
With  (as  in  classical  art)  nothing  at  all  in  excess. 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  59 

Passengers  here  may  converse  with   officers  on   and 

off  duty, 
And  will  especially,  please,  talk  with  the  man  at  the 

wheel ; 

Honor,  obscurity,  riches,  poverty,  homeliness,  beauty, 
Constitute  equal  parts  here  of  the  same  common 
weal. 

Such  are  the  company's  rules  ;  and  I  think  you  will 

easily  gather 

From  my  behavior  thus  far,  that  the  particular  part 
I  would  assume  toward  you  all,  is  the  part  of  affec 
tionate  father, 

With  the  more   delicate  ones'   interests   chiefly  at 
heart. 

Well,  ladies,  which  of  you  sent  for  me? 

MRS.  VANE. 
It  was  I,  captain,  on  behalf  of  my  daughter. 

MR.    VANE. 

On  behalf  of  our  daughter  —  yes  ! 

CAFfAIN. 

And  what  can  I  do  for  you,  miss? 


60  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

MURIEL. 

Nothing.     But   the    man    at    the   wheel    makes 
me  giddy,  turning  it  round  so. 

CAPTAIN,  through    his  trumpet,  to  the  MAN  AT  THE 

WHEEL. 

Lash  your  wheel ! 

MAN  AT  THE  WHEEL,  obeying. 
Ay,  ay,  sir  !      {Attempting  to  sing.) 
I  am  the  — 

CAPIAIN,  sternly. 

Belay  that!     (To   MURIEL.)     Any  thing    more, 

miss  ? 

MURIEL. 

No,  —  only  the  ship  seems  to  tremble    a  good 
deal. 

CAPTAIN,    tO    the    MAN    AT    THE    WHEEL. 

Tell    the  officer  on    duty  to  send    me    the    en 
gineer. 

MAN   AT   THE   WHEEL. 

Ay,    ay,    sir !       (Down    speaking-tube,)      Engi 
neer  ! 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  6 1 

(ENGINEER  appearing  instantly,  and  attempting  to  sing.} 
I  am  the  — 

CHORUS. 

Oh,  stow  it! 
We  know  it. 

CAPTAIN. 

We've  had  enough  of  explanation,  and  we'll  show  it. 

CAPTAIN,  —  A  Suggestion. 

If  you  wish  to  deliver  some  long  explanation, 

Mainly  in  honor  and  praise  of  yourself, 
Be  not  deceived  with  the  fond  expectation, 

That  the  world,  which  it  brings  neither  glory  nor 
pelf, 

Will  list  to  your  call : 
The  right  way  for  you  is  to  hire  a  hall ! 
Yes,  hire  a  hall! 

If  your  tongue  should  be  long,  and  be  hung  in  the 

middle, 

And  it  chance  that  you  be  of  the  lovelier  sex, 
With  a  gift  beyond  symphony,  cymbals,  or  fiddle, 
The  soul  of  your  husband  to  pierce  and  to  vex, 

And  you  must  caterwaul, 
The  right  way  for  you  is  to  hire  a  hall ! 
Yes,  hire  a  hall ! 


62  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

If  you  are  a  poet,  and  lately  have  written 

Some  verses  you  fancy  uncommonly  fine  ; 
If  you  are  a  lover,  just  given  the  mitten,  — 
And  no  one  will  hearken,  you  should  not  repine. 

'Tis  the  fortune  of  all ; 
The  right  way  for  you  is  to  hire  a  hall ! 
Yes,  hire  a  hall ! 

If  you're  a  pianist,  and  have  a  fell  passion 

For  banging  away  at  the  keys  by  the  hour, 
Allow  me !     There  is  a  more  merciful  fashion 
Than  socially  making  displays  of   your  power,  — 

A  fashion  for  all : 

The  right  way  for  you  is  to  hire  a  hall ! 
Yes,  hire  a  hall! 

If  you  are  a  statesman  or  ward  politician, 

A  man  with  a  grievance,  a  maid  with  a  grief, 
An  agent,  a  dentist,  a  soul  with  a  mission, 

Beware  how  you  turn  to  your  friends  for  relief. 

I'll  be  frank  with  you  all : 
The  right  way  for  you  is  to  hire  a  hall ! 
Yes,  hire  a  hall ! 

If  you  are  a  — 

CHORUS. 

Oh,  hire  a  hall ! 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  63 

CAFFAIN. 

I  bow  to  the  will  of  the  —  Remnant.  (To  the 
ENGINEER.)  Go  down,  and  stop  the  engines. 

ENGINEER. 

Ay,  ay,  sir  ! 

[Exit. 

CAPTAIN,    to    MURIEL. 

Is  that  all,  miss? 

MURIEL,  reluctantly. 
Y-e-e-e-e-s. 

MRS.    VANE. 

Muriel,  7  must  speak,  if  you  will  not.  Captain, 
she  is  annoyed  by  the  presence  of  one  of  the 
young  gentlemen  on  board,  who  refuses  to  go 
ashore. 

CAFFAIN. 
Which  young  gentleman  is  it,  ma'am? 

MRS.    VANE. 

Shall  I  indicate  him  more  particularly,  Muriel? 


64  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

MURIEL,  veiling  her  eyes  with  her  hand. 

I  suppose  you  must,  mamma.  But  don't  be 
harsh  ! 

MRS.    VANE. 

I  will  be  firm.     It  is  Mr.  Gay. 

CAPTAIN,  to  THERON,  sternly. 

I  have  not  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you 
before,  sir,  I  think. 

THERON. 

Very  true.  I  have  lately  been  describing  my 
self  in  song  to  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  present 
as  Love's  Stowaway.  So  far  as  relates  to  the 
payment  of  my  passage,  the  term  is  not  perfectly 
accurate.  The  purser  will  tell  you  that  my  ticket 
was  quite  regular.  I  occupy  Berth  81  on  the 
saloon-deck  ;  but  I  called  myself  Love's  Stowaway 
because  I  was  here  without  the  knowledge  of  a 
young  lady  who  was  flying  on  your  ship  from 
a  hemisphere  which  my  attentions  had  rendered 
insupportable  to  her.  I  will  not  spare  myself, 
sir  — 

MURIEL,    tO    MRS.    VANE. 

Oh,  how  generous,  how  magnanimous,  he  is  ! 


LOVE'S  STOW  A  IV AY.  65 

MRS.    VANE. 

Hush,  my  child  !  If  you  give  way,  the  affair 
must  end  here. 

MURIEL. 
Well,  I  will  be  patient,  then. 

THERON. 

I  will  not  shrink  from  saying  that  I  told  her 
my  love  at  a  moment  when  it  was  surprising,  and 
perhaps  painful,  to  her.  I  also  fled ;  and,  by  a 
series  of  accidents,  I  found  myself  on  the  same 
ship  with  Miss  Vane.  If  you  had  been  on  deck 
immediately  after  the  opening  chorus,  you  could 
have  heard  me  state  the  same  facts  in  recitative. 
Now,  do  with  me  as  you  will.  I  am,  strictly 
speaking,  Love's  Unintentional  Stowaway.  But 
I  am  a  stowaway,  and  I  do  not  shrink  from  the 
penalty.  Put  me  in  irons. 

MRS.  VANE,  to  MURIEL,  who  is  weeping. 

Remember,  if  you  yield  now,  you  spoil  every 
thing. 

CAPTAIN. 

Well,  ma'am,  there  are    practical    difficulties  in 


66  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

the  way  of  Mr.  Gay's  going  ashore.  I  have  just 
been  taking  an  observation  in  the  boiler-room, 
and  we  are  twenty-three  miles  from  land.  It  is 
a  very  quick  run  :  we  are  only  two  days  out. 

MURIEL. 

But,  captain,  you  could  turn  the  ship  round, 
and  go  back  with  him,  couldn't  you? 

CAFfAIN. 

Yes,  miss,  we  could  do  that ;  but  it  would  post 
pone  our  arrival  in  Europe  almost  indefinitely. 
It  would  be  simpler  to  throw  him  overboard. 

MURIEL. 

I  don't  think  I  could  quite  consent  to  that.  It 
would  be  inhuman,  wouldn't  it? 

CAPTAIN. 

It  would  be  unusual ;  but,  as  I  understand,  it 
is  an  extreme  case. 

MURIEL. 

Yes,  it  is.  It  is  very  provoking.  Is  there  no 
other  way? 


L  O  VE  'S  S7  'O  W 'A  WA  Y.  6  / 

CAPTAIN. 

Yes.     If  you  could  wait,  miss,  we  might  trans 
fer  him  to  the  first  homeward-bound  ship  we  met. 

MURIEL. 

Perhaps  we  had  better  wait. 

CAPTAIN. 

In  the  mean  time  I  will  just  have  him  loaded 
with  chains. 

MURIEL,  starting  forward. 
With  chains? 

CAPTAIN. 

Yes,  miss,  as  a  stowaway  by  his  own  confession. 

MURIEL. 

Oh,  yes  !      (She  sinks  back  in  her  chair.)     Of 
course  ! 

THERON,  —  A  Defiance. 

Yes,  load  me  with  chains  ! 

What  are  your  iron  links 
To  the  bonds  in  which  my  last  hope  wanes, 

My  spirit  sinks? 


68  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

Yes,  load  me  with  chains  ! 

Spare  not,  do  not  delay  ! 
Soon  I  shall  lie,  'neath  the  suns  and  the  rains, 

Death's  Stowaway  ! 

(A  ^roiip  of  Seamen  appear  with  handcuffs  and  heai>y 
c/iaius.  At  the  end  of  each  stanza  they  dance  some  steps 
of  the  Sailor's  Hornpipe.} 


THE  SEAMAN'S  PROTEST. 

Oh  !    don't   you    think   it's    hard    on  the  sympathetic 

sailor, 
Whose  heart  is   in    his    hand,  and  whose    hand   is 

on  his  hip, 
To    make    him    play    the    part    of    policeman   or    of 

jailer, 
And  render  him  detestable  to  all  aboard  the  ship? 

For  our  natural  disposition  we  refer  you  to  the  pic 
tures, 
And  the  story-books  the  landsmen  write  about  the 

jolly  tar ; 
Though  we    might  make,  of  course,  our  suggestions 

and  our  strictures, 

You   must  go  to  them,  if   really  you  would   know 
us  as  we  are. 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  69 

'Tis  our  ordinary  habit  to  sing  of  Sue  and  Polly 
As  we    lightly  climb  aloft,  to    reef    the    topsail  in 

the  gale; 

We  are  all  opposed,  on  principle,  to   care  and   mel 
ancholy  ; 

We    love    to    catch    the    shark,    and    harpoon    the 
sleeping  whale. 


Then,    when    all   the    toils   arid   dangers    of   the    day 

are  safely  over, 
'Tis  our  custom  to  lie  basking  before  the  fo'c's'le 

fire, 
Spinning  yarns  and  piping  ditties  of  maiden  and  of 

lover, 

And  watch  the  cheery  flames  till  they  flicker  and 
expire. 

• 
And  nothing  more   repugnant  to  the    feelings    of   a 

sailor, 
Than  loading  of   a  gentleman  with  chains  can  be 

conceived  ; 
And    that   we    should    have    to    play   the    policeman 

or  the  jailer 

On    this    ship's,  a    thing   that    none    of    us    would 
ever  have  believed. 

(They  load  THERON  with  chains.} 


70  A  SEA-CHANGE: 

MURIEL,  sobbing  convulsively. 

But,  captain,  suppose  we  don't  meet  any  home 
ward-bound  ship? 

CAPTAIN. 

Then,  miss,  —  the  idea  has  just  occurred  to  me, 
—  we  could  put  him  off  on  an  iceberg.  We  are 
now  entering  the  region  of  floating  ice,  and  we 
may  encounter  a  suitable  iceberg  at  any  moment. 
They  are  continually  drifting  toward  the  coast  of 
Labrador;  and  the  chances  are,  that  within  a 
week,  or  ten  days  at  the  farthest,  he  would  find 
himself  within  the  Straits  of  Belle  Isle,  from 
whence  he  could  easily  make  his  way  by  the 
Intercolonial  Railway  to  Halifax,  and  so  by  boat 
to  Boston. 

MURIEL. 

Do    you    think    an    iceberg    is    preferable    to    a 
homeward-bound  merchant-vessel  ? 

CAPTAIN. 
It's  about  an  even  thing,  miss. 

MURIEL,  thoughtfully. 
It  would  be  more  romantic  on  an  iceberg. 


LOWS  STOWAWAY.  /I 

CAPTAIN. 

Yes,  it  would  certainly  be  more  romantic. 

MURIEL. 

I  should  think  Theron  would  prefer  it.  Well, 
then,  let  it  be  whichever  we  meet  first. 

CAPTAIN. 
All  right,  miss.     Steward  * 

STEWARD. 

Yes,  sir? 

•  CAPTAIN. 

Tell  the  third  officer  in  charge  of  the  passen 
gers'  luggage  to  have  Mr.  Gay's  boxes  brought 
up  out  of  the  hold  ;  and  go  and  fetch  his  valise 
out  of  his  state-room  yourself.  Not  a  moment 
is  to  be  lost. 

STEWARD. 

Yes,  sir. 

[Exit. 

(A  derrick  is  seen  lifting  THERON'S  trunk  through  a  bulk 
head  in  the  deck.  The  STEWARD  re-appears  with  THE 
RON'S  bag  and  travelling-shawls,  The  latter  removes  his 
Glengarry  cap,  and  puts  on  his  silk  Jiat,  as  if  going 
asJiore.  The  CHORUS,  now  fully  realizing  the  horror  of 
the;  situation,  start  forward  in  protest.) 


72  A    SEA-CJIAXCK. 

CHORUS. 
What  is  this,  O  dread  commander 

Of  the  Mesopotam-i-a  ? 
If  we  rightly  understand  her, 

We  are  filled  with  wild  dismay. 

In  default  of  home-bound  vessel, 
Would  she  see  her  true-love,  pray, 

Left  with  the  winds  and  waves  to  wrestle, 
On  an  iceberg  cast  away? 

CAPTAIN. 

Yes ;  for.  if  I  understand  her, 
She  will  brook  no  more  delay. 

MURIEL. 

Only  because,  O  dread  commander ! 
You  can  think  of  no  other  way. 

THERON. 

Yes,  fond  friends  and  sympathizing, 

Truly  there  is  no  other  way 
In  the  scope  of  our  surmising; 

And,  as  a  gentleman,   I  obey. 

MR.    VANE. 

This  "is  politeness   most  surprising. 


L  O  VE  'S   S  TO  WA  WA  Y. 

MRS.    VANE. 
It  is  the  least  that  he  could  say! 

MR.    VANE. 

Were  I  readier  at  devising, 

He  should  never  be  cast  away. 

STEWARD. 

1   am  worse  by  the  thirty  shilling 

'E  would  have  given  me,  I  dare  say, 
At  the  hend  of  the  voyage ! 

CHORUS. 

Thrilling, 

Far  beyond  our  feeble  lay, 
Is  the  existing  situation. 

No  one,  we  think,  will  say  us  nay, 
When  we  add  an  execration 

Of  the  Fates  that  still  betray. 
But  since  nothing  can  be  more  certain 

Than  that  there  seems  no  other  way, 
Dropping  over  our  grief  a  curtain, 

Let  us  be  light,  let  us  be  gay  ! 

(They  dance.} 


74  A    SEA-CHA'NGE. 

CAPTAIN,  STEWARD,  AND    MR.  AND  MRS.  VANE,  dancing 

together. 
Let  us  be  light,  let  us  be  gay ! 

THERON,  dancing  alone. 
Let  them  be  light,  let  them  be  gay  ! 

MURIEL,  keeping  time  with  her  head. 
Let  him  be  light,  let  him  be  gay ! 

But  in  the  mean  time,  Theron,  if  you  have  any 
thing  to  say  in  justification  of  your  strange  con 
duct,  I  cannot  refuse  to  hear  it ;  though,  of 
course,  it  won't  affect  the  final  result. 

THERON. 

No,  Muriel,  I  understand  that  perfectly.  Do 
you  mean  my  conduct  in  finding  myself  on  the 
same  ship  with  you  ? 

MURIEL. 

No  :  that  is  all  past,  now  ! 

THERON. 

Oh  !  Then,  you  mean  my  conduct  in  offering 
myself  to  you.  Well,  there  is  nothing  I  would 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  ?$ 

like  to  say;  but  there  is  something  I  would  like 
to  sing. 

MURIEL. 

Could  you  make  it  short?  I  am  really  quite 
worn  out.  I  have  been  so  terribly  sea-sick, 
Theron  !  And  I  haven't  literally  slept  a  wink 
since  I  came  on  board.  Singing  seems  to  string 
the  ideas  out  so  !  And  there  has  been  so  much 
of  it !  And  then,  if  therfe  happens  to  be  an 
encore.,  there's  no  living  through  it. 

THERON. 

I  will  try  to  boil  it  down. 

MURIEL. 

Do  !  And  I  hope  the  music  isn't  abrupt  or 
dramatic?  I  really  couldn't  bear  it,  in  my  ex 
hausted  state. 

THERON. 

No  :  it's  a  simple,  pleasing  air,  —  rather  sooth 
ing,  than  otherwise,  I  believe. 

MURIEL. 
Well,  then,   sit    down    by    me    while    you    sing, 


7  6  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

Theron,  and  take   my  hand    in    yours.     We    may 
part  so  soon  ! 

(He  obeys.) 


THERON,  —  A   Justification. 

You  ask  me  why  ?     We  both  were  young ; 
And  round  our  lives  the  rosy  air 

Full  of  divine  expectance  hung, 
Like  the  soft  light  that  everywhere 
Clings  to  the  leafless  branches  bare, 
In  March  while  yet  the  trees  are  bare. 


You  ask  me  why?     It  was  the  time 
The  bird  begins  to  build  its  nest, 

And  all  the  world  is  filled  with  rhyme 
Of  soul  to  soul,  and  breast  to  breast ; 
With  rapture  wild,  and  sweet  unrest, 
With  spring-time's  wild  and  sweet  unrest. 


You  ask  me  why  ?     It  was  the  hour 

When  Doubt  is  lulled,  and  Hope  awakes, 

And  certain  tender  dreams  have  power 
Upon  us  for  their  own  sweet  sakes  ; 
And  all  such  different  seeming  takes, 
Such  mystic  midnight  seeming  takes. 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY. 

You  ask  me  why  ?     It  was  the  place 
Of  many  a  summer-breathing  flower ; 

The  rose's  bloom,  the  lily's  grace, 
Drooped  o'er  us  in  the  mimic  bovver, 
Around  the  fountain's  gush  and  shower, 
The  tiny  fountain's  gush  and  shower. 


You  ask  me  why  ?     We  sat  alone. 

In  distant  rooms  we  heard  the  waltz 
Throb  dully ;  and,  in  undertone, 

You  bade  me  tell  you  of  your  faults  ; 

Amid  the  pulses  of  the  waltz, 

You  bade  me  tell  you  of  your  faults. 

( W/iile   he   sings,  she   drowses,  unseen    by  him.     Her  head 
sinks  on  her  breast.) 


THERON. 

Muriel,  love  ?     She  weeps  ! 


CHORUS. 

No,  no,  she  sleeps  ! 
The  aching  heart,  the  weavy  brain, 
At  last  are  free  from  pain. 

Muriel  sleeps. 


A    SEA-CIIANGK. 
MR.    AND    MRS.    VANE. 

Yes,  yes,  she  sleeps  ! 
Be  silent,  oh  !  and  make  no  stir, 
Lest  you  awaken  her. 

Muriel  sleeps. 

CAPTAIN,  through  his  trumpet. 

Ay,  ay,  she  sleeps  ! 

The  wretch  who  dares  to  breathe  a  word 
Henceforth,  goes  overboard. 

Muriel  sleeps. 

MAN  AT  THE  WHEEL,  sounding  the  whistle. 

Ay,  ay,  she  sleeps  ! 
Oh,  softly,  whistle,  softly  sigh 
The  news  afar  and  nigh  ! 

Muriel  sleeps. 

THERON. 

Oh,  joy!     She  sleeps! 
It  was  my  song  that  brought  surcease 
Of  pain  to  her,  and  peace. 

Muriel  sleeps. 

MURIEL,  stirring  in  her  sleep. 
Come  back  !     /  love  you  too  ! 


LOVE'S  STOWAWAY.  79 

CHORUS    OF   ALL   THE    VOICES. 

Hush,  hush  ! 
Our  Muriel  dreams. 

A  tender  flush 

Bepaints  her  cheek,  and  seems 
The  light  of  dreams. 

Hush,  hush  ! 
Our  Muriel  raves. 

Oh,  cease  your  soar  and  rush, 
Ye  winds  and  waves  ! 

Our  Muriel  raves. 

» 

Hush,  hush  ! 
Of  love  she  raves, 

And  parting ;    and  a  gush 
Of  hot  tears  steals 
From  underneath  her  fallen  lids,  and  laves 

Her  pale,  worn  cheeks, 

And  eloquently  speaks 
The  sorrow  that  she  feels, 

Even  while  she  sleeps  ! 

Even  while  she  sleeps, 

She  weeps ! 

( The  scene  is  slowly  darkened  until  all  the  figures  become  in 
visible,  while  the  CHORUS  continues.} 

CURTAIN. 


ACT    II. 

MURIEL'S    DREAM. 

(  The  scene  is  the  same  ;  but  the  deck  is  now  gorgeously  deco 
rated  -with  rich  stuff's  in  -various  colors,  hanging  from  the 
shrouds  and  yards,  and  forming  a  pavilion,  open  at  the 
back,  so  as  to  show  the  other  guard  of  the  steamer,  and 
the  sea  beyond.  The  front  of  the  house  is  wreathed  with 
flowers,  enormous  rosettes  adorn  all  the  upright  surfaces, 
the  masts  and  funnels  are  likewise  garlanded,  and  the 
mouths  of  the  funnels  arc  filled  with  vast  bouquets,  through 
which  the  smoke  is  seen  escaping.  There  is  a  touch  of 
something  fantastic  in  all  these  decorations,  and  in  the 
dress  of  all  the  persons  present,  who  are  in  ball-costume.) 

CHORUS,  promenading  arm  in  arm. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen, 
If  at  all  singular 
In  our  appearance 

Some  of  us  seem, 
So 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  8 1 

Let  us  enlighten  you: 
We  are  not  really 
People,  but  only 

Things  in  a  dream, — 

Muriel's  dream  ! 


All  this  magnificent 
Paraphernalia      » 
That  you  will  notice 

Here,  if  you  please, 
Is  but  the  scenery 
That  quite  subjectively, 
As  in  a  vision 

Dreaming  she  sees, 

Muriel  sees  ! 


And  though  the  opera 
May  appear  tedious 
In  its  performance, 

Yet  it  is  plain 
All  its  occurrences 
Are  simultaneous, 
All  in  an  instant 

Flashed  on  the  brain,  — 

Muriel's  brain  ! 


82  A   SEA-CHANGE. 

MURIEL,    magnificently    dressed,  promenading   arm 

in  arm  with  THERON. 

And  so  we're  going  to  have  a  ball  !  How  per 
fectly  fascinating  !  Do  you  know,  Theron,  I've 
often  wondered  they  didn't  have  them  oftener  on 
the  Retarders?  It  would  certainly  be  an  attrac 
tion. 

THERON. 

Yes,  I  think  it  would.  How  do  you  like  the 
decorations  ? 

MURIEL,  pausing  a  moment  to  glance  up  at  them, 

with  her  hands  clasped  through  his  arm. 
Beautiful !     A  little  peculiar,  perhaps  ? 

THERON. 

No  :    I  don't  think  so. 

MURIEL. 
Well,  perhaps  not.     Who  did  them  ? 

THERON. 

They  were  designed  by  the  Society  for  the  Pre 
vention  of  Decorative  Art.  The  piano  is  from  the 
establishment  of  Messrs.  Chickerway  &  Steining. 

(He  pauses,  and  takes  up  in  his  hand  a  toy  grand 

-hi 'a no \\ 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  83 

MURIEL. 

Oh,  yes  !  It's  one  of  their  new  Baby  Grands. 
But  (regarding  if  critically}  isn't  it  rather  small  ? 

THERON,  walking  on. 
It  is  small;  but  it  will  grow. 

MURIEL. 
Oh,  certainly  !     It  will  grow  —  in  time. 

THERON. 

Yes :  it  will  grow  old. 

MURIEL. 

That  was  what  I  meant.  There  are  to  be  re 
freshments,  I  suppose? 

THERON. 

Well,  very  light.  Bouillon  for  the  ladies,  and 
chocolate-creams  and  chewing-gum  for  the  sales 
ladies. 

MURIEL. 
Perfect!     Who  suggested  the  ball? 


84  A    SEA-CHAXGE. 

THERON. 

Why,  to  tell  the  truth,  /  thought  of  it. 

MURIEL. 

But  how  came  you  to  have  such  a  fortunate 
inspiration?  You're  so  stupid,  usually,  you  know. 
(It  doesn't  seem  to  be  quite  what  I  meant  to 

say!) 

THERON. 

Well,  I  don't  know.  I  thought  it  would  be  a 
graceful  little  attention  to  the  steerage-passengers 
if  I  got  up  a  sort  of  fete  for  them  in  celebration 
of  my  approaching  departure. 

MURIEL,  fondly. 

How  like  you,  Theron  !  But  (looking  about} 
I  don't  see  any  of  the  steerage-passengers  here. 

THERON. 

No  :  they're  rather  a  low  set.  Of  course  we 
couldn't  have  them  present. 

MURIEL. 
Of  course  not.     Theron  ! 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  85 

THERON. 
Yes,  dearest? 

MURIEL. 

I   never  thought  !     But  where   did    the    flowers 
come  from?     So  far  at  sea,  you  know. 

THERON. 
Oh  !     The  flowers  are  Artificial. 


Why,  so  they  are  !  But  they  looked  as  unnatu 
ral  as  the  real  ones. 

THERON. 

The  captain  has  them  watered  with  cologne  from 
time  to  time,  and  that  keeps  them  fresh.  Here 
comes  the  man,  now. 

(A  seaman  appears  ivith  garden-hose,  and  sprinkles  the 
flowers,  executing,  at  the  same  time,  some  steps  of  the 
Hornpipe.} 

MURIEL. 

I  never  saw  any  thing  so  lavish  !  And  how 
characteristic  of  a  seaman,  to  dance  ! 


86  A   SEA-CHANGE. 

THERON. 

The  captain  has  spared  no  expense,  and  the 
crew  all  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  affair. 

MURIEL,  with  an  uneasy  sigh. 
I    suppose    the    decorations    are    all    right ;    but 
don't  you  think  the  company  is  rather  queer? 

THERON. 

I  see  nothing  queer  about  them. 

MURIEL. 

Well,  if  I  didn't  know  that  I  was  awake,  I  should 
certainly  think  I  was  dreaming.  Those  Arab  gen 
tlemen,  now :  they  seem  to  have  become  quite 
dark  since  I  first  saw  them. 

THERON. 

Yes,  they  are  Arabian  Nights  now. 

MURIEL. 

That  accounts  for  it.  Well,  it  must  be  right. 
But  why  do  the  gentlemen  all  keep  their  bonnets 
on? 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  8/ 


THERON. 


To  prevent  the  bees  in  them  from  escaping. 
They've  got  bees  in  their  bonnets,  to  a  man  ! 

MURIEL. 

I  see.     Theron  ! 

THERON. 

Well? 

MURfEL. 

I  don't  like  to  ask  so  many  questions,  but  why 
has  the  captain  got  on  an  over-skirt? 

THERON,  carelessly. 

Oh  !  I  suppose  he's  heard  of  the  secretary  of 
the  treasury  issuing  a  steamboat-captain's  com 
mission  to  that  lady  in  Mississippi,  and  wishes  to 
be  ready  for  the  change. 

MURIEL. 

How  stupid  of  me  not  to  think  !  But  do  you 
like  papa  in  mamma's  fichu? 

THERON. 
I  think  it's  rather  becoming. 


88  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

MURIEL,  thoughtfully. 

Perhaps  the  color  is.  But  now  —  mamma  in 
a  dress-coat  !  Do  you  think  it's  quite  the  thing? 

THE  RON. 
Why,  it's  very  common,  you  know. 

MURIEL. 
Yes.     What  have  they  all  got  on? 

THERON. 

Their  life-preservers. 

MURIEL. 

Oh  !  I  see.  But  is  it  safe,  having  them  round 
the  knees? 

THERON. 

Well,  they  do  less  harm  there,  probably.  They 
can  take  them  off  if  any  thing  happens. 

MURIEL. 

True.  Why  have  they  got  all  these  signs  stuck 
about,  "  Keep  off  the  grass"?  I  don't  see  any 
grass. 


MUKIKL'S  DRKAM.  89 

THERON. 

No  :  it  isn't  up  yet.  But  there'll  be  plenty  of 
it  before  we  get  to  Liverpool,  —  sea-grass,  you 
know.  The  Mesopotamia  is  generally  covered 
with  it  when  it  comes  into  port.  It's  very  deco 
rative. 

MURIEL. 

I  dare  say.  I  would  ^ike  to  speak  with  the 
steward,  please. 

STEWARD,  instantly  appearing,  with  his   left  hand 
developed  into  a  spacious  waiter. 

Yes,  miss? 

MURIEL,  staring. 

Ugh  !  Oh  !  I  merely  wished  to  see  the  captain 
a  moment.  Robert  ! 


STEWARD. 
Yes,  miss? 

MURIEL,  indicating  his  hand. 
Is  it  —  comfortable  ? 


90  A   SEA-CHANGE. 

STEWARD. 

Perfectly,  miss.  It's  convenient ;  and  it  can't 
fly  hout  of  your  'old  in  rough  weather,  miss,  like 
the  hold  style  of  waiter. 

MURIEL. 
Yes,  there's  that  to  be  said.     And  —  Robert ! 

STEWARD. 

Yes,  miss? 

MURIEL. 

You  don't  notice  any  thing  odd  about  the  com 
pany,  do  you? 

STEWARD. 

Nothing  whatever,  miss. 

MURIEL,  /;/  bewilderment. 

Yes  :  that's  what  Theron  said.  Well,  send  me 
the  captain.  (The  STEWARD  vanishes,  and  the 
CAPTAIN  appears?}  Oh  !  I  have  been  waiting  for 
you.  But  (severely}  I  wish  you  wouldn't  flash 
upon  me  in  that  disagreeable  manner.  One  would 
think  you  were  something  at  the  theatre,  coming 
up  out  of  the  floor. 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  9 1 

CAPTAIN. 

Well,  miss,  I'm  greatly  pressed  for  time.  I've 
to  get  this  ball  over  before  breakfast. 

MURIEL. 

It  seems  to  me  it's  a  very  droll  time  for  a  ball. 

CAPTAIN. 

It's  a  matinee;  to  let  the  steerage-passengers 
go  to  their  work  in  season.  Besides,  I  dare  say 
you've  been  at  a  great  many  balls  where  you  had 
to  hurry  to  get  through  before  breakfast. 

MURIEL. 

That  is  perfectly  true.  But  now  tell  me  frankly, 
captain,  do  you  notice  any  thing  strange  about 
your  guests? 

CAPTAIN,  looking  round. 

Well,  no,  miss.  They  seem  dressed  as  people 
usually  are  at  a  dancing-party. 

MURIEL,  in  despair. 
Oh,  dear  !     But  Theron,  now :    why  does  The- 


92  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

ron  wear  that  enormous  bow  on  the  small  of  his 
back?     Whisper  it,  please. 

CAPTAIN,  glancing  from  THERON  to  the  pug,  which 
is  similarly  equipped,  and  tJicn   replying  through 
/i Is  trumpet. 
Because  the  other  one  has  it,  I  suppose. 

MURIEL,  bursting  into  tears. 

Oh,  don't  turn  the  poor  fellow  into  ridicule  at 
the  last  moment  !  It's  inhuman  !  (She  runs  to 
him,  and,  detaching  the  bow,  flings  it  into  the  sea. 
Then  a  thought  seems  to  strike  her.)  Theron  ! 

THERON. 

Yes,  Muriel? 

MURIEL. 
Why,  you  are  still  here  ! 

THERON. 

Yes.  We  haven't  met  any  home-bound  vessel 
yet. 

MURIEL. 

Well,  it  won't  do.  We  have  made  all  our 
preparations  for  parting,  and  we  must  part. 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  93 

MURIEL  AND  THERON,  —  Duet  of  Resignation. 

MURIEL. 

Yes,  we  must  part,  for  parting  comes  to  all  : 
It  is  the  thought  that  poisons  love's  delight; 

In  rapture's  cup  it  is  the  drop  of  gall; 
At  noon  it  is  the  shadow  of  the  night. 

THERON. 

Yes,  we  must  part.     We  only  live  to  part: 
The  bird  must  leave  its  native  sky  afar, 

The  leaf  its  bough,  the  rose  its  stem,  the  heart 
Its  hope;  the  day  must  lose  its  morning  star. 

BOTH. 

Yes,  we  must  part,  O  love  !  or  soon  or  late, 
Whether  we  laugh  or  weep,  or  smile  or  sigh, 

It  is  of  all  that  lives  the  common  fate  ; 
And  love  itself  at  last  must  fade  and  die. 

MURIEL,  sobbing. 

But  what  about  the  iceberg,  Theron?  The 
captain  promised  me,  that,  if  we  met  no  home- 
bound  vessel,  you  should  be  put  off  on  an  ice 
berg  ! 


94  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

THERON,  sobbing. 
The  lookout  hasn't  sighted  any  iceberg  yet. 

LOOKOUT,  on  top  of  the  house. 

Sail,  ho  ! 

CAPTAIN,  through  Ids  trumpet. 

Where  away? 

LOOKOUT. 

On  the  port-quarter,  sir. 


CAPTAIN. 

Heave  to  ! 

LOOKOUT. 

Ay,  ay,  sir  ! 


CAPTAIN. 


Cast  the  log  ! 


LOOKOUT. 

Ay,  ay,  sir! 

CAPTAIN. 

Reef  the  starboard  watch  ! 


LOOKOUT. 

Ay,  ay,  sir  ! 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  95 

CAPTAIN. 


Eight  bells  ! 


LOOKOUT. 


Eight  bells  it  is,  sir  ! 


CAPTAIN. 

Yare  ! 

LOOKOUT. 

Ay,  ay,  sir! 

CAPTAIN. 

Luff! 

LOOKOUT. 

Ay,  ay,  sir! 

CHORUS. 

Oh,  how  excessively 
Novel  and  interesting  ! 
Let  us  be  writing 

Letters  to  send  — 
If  he  will  pardon  us 
Offering  to  trouble  him 
With  their  conveyance  — 

Home  by  our  friend. 

(They  all  take  out  postal-cards,  and  zurite.) 


g6  A   SEA-C MANGE. 

LOOKOUT. 
Little  mistake,  sir  (. 


CAPTAIN. 

Well? 

LOOKOUT. 

It  isn't  a  sail,  sir.     It's  a  hiceberg. 

CHORUS,  getting  out  their  glasses. 
An  iceberg  ! 

THERON. 

Muriel  ! 

MURIEL. 

Theron  ! 

(They  fly  into  each  other's  arms.} 

CHORUS    OF   ALL   THE    GENTLEMEN    PASSENGERS. 

Cruel  girl !     Can  nothing  move  you 
From  the  deed  that  you  would  do  ? 

If  it  be  worthy  death  to  love  you, 
Know  that  we  are  guilty  too. 
Put  us  off  on  the  iceberg  too  ! 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  97 

CHORUS    OF    ALL   THE    LADY    PASSENGERS. 

Shameless  thing  !     If  we  could  only 
Do  what  we  would  like  to  do. 

His  exile  should  not  be  lonely. 
Let  these  wretches  stay  with   \(,u.' 
We  would  go  on  the  iceberg  too. 

THERON,    SOOthing  MURIEL. 

Nay,  kind  ladies,  do  not  chide  her  : 

She  but  does  what  she  must  do. 
•I  am  willing  to  abide  her 

Final  wish  in  the  premises.  You 
Must  not  think  of  coming  too. 
No,  kind  ladies,  it  would  not  do! 

MURIEL. 

That  is  very  sweet  of  you,  Theron.  Not  that 
I  care  for  them.  But  I'm  sure  you  won't  suffer 
much,  if  any.  It's  coming  summer,  and  the  ice 
berg  will  be  cool  and  pleasant.  You  will  be 
abundantly  provided  with  food,  fuel,  cigars,  and 
reading-matter.  You'll  soon  drift  ashore  some 
where.  But,  in  any  case,  it  can't  be  helped. 
You  must  go.  There's  no  other  way  of  getting 
rid  of  you.  Don't  you  see,  dearest? 


Cj8  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

THERON. 

Oh,  yes  !     I    see,   Muriel.     You're    quite    right. 
I  dare  say  I  shall  do  very  well. 

MURIEL. 

Captain,  we  don't  seem  to  be  approaching  very 
rapidly. 

CAPTAIN. 

That's  because  we're  going  towards  the  iceberg. 
If  we  were  sailing  from  it,  you  would  see  how 
soon  we  should  overhaul  it. 

MURIEL. 

Oh,  yes  !  I  forgot  that  this  was  one  of  the 
Retarders. 

(Sound  of  distant  singing  is  heard.) 

CAPTAIN. 

But,  even  as  it  is,  we  sha'n't  be  long.  There, 
you  can  hear  the  people  on  the  iceberg  already. 

MR.    VANE. 

Are  they  usually  inhabited,  captain? 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  99 

CAPTAIN. 

Yes,  usually,  but  not  always. 

MR.    VANE. 

How  very  odd  ! 

MRS.    VANE. 

And  are  the  inhabitants 'like  us? 

CAPTAIN,  with   some  embarrassment. 
Well,    ma'am,    that    depends    upon    what    you 
mean    by    us.      If    you    mean    me,  —  well,     no  : 
they're  not  precisely  like  us.     They're  fairies. 


MURIEL. 
Fairies? 


CAPTAIN. 

Yes,  miss.  And  there's  another  difference. 
They're  all  beautiful  young  ladies.  Yes,  it's  a 
singular  fact,  but  one  well  known  to  science,  that 
the  inhabitants  of  icebergs  are  all  fairies,  all 
young,  all  beautiful,  and  all  ladies. 


IOQ  A    SEA-CIIAXGE. 

MURIEL,  with  misgiving. 

O  Theron,  dear  !  do  you  think  you'd  better  go? 
If  any  thing  should  happen  to  you,  I  could  never 
forgive  myself. 

THERON. 

Don't  be  troubled,  Muriel.  I  shall  be  perfectly 
safe,  I've  no  doubt. 

CAPTAIN. 

There,  miss,  you  can  hear  them  quite  distinctly 


now. 


CHORUS   OF   THE    ICEBERG    FAIRIES. 

(As  they  sing,  the  iceberg  approaches;  and  they  arc  seen 
scattered  'wer  its  peaks  and  slopes,  draped  in  flowing 
white  and  blue,  and  wearing  fillets  of  frosted  silver  in 
their  hair.  The  iceberg  softly  touches  the  side  of  the 
steamer,  and  the  seamen  make  it  fast.  They  place  a 
staging  from  the  rail  to  the  dec/;.) 

Out  of  the  frozen  realms  of  the  North, 

From  the  dreamless  solitudes 

Where  immemorial  silence  broods 
Over  a  world  that  is  white  and  whist 


MURIEL'S   DREAM.  IGI 

As  is  the  pale,  dead  moon, 

Singing  a  mystic  rune, 
Clad  all  in  pearl  and  amethyst, 
Life  out  of  Death,  we  have  wandered  forth. 

Out  of  the  beautiful  northern  sky, 

From  the  eerie  flash  and  play 

Of  lights  that  fairer  than  the  clay 
Paint  the  long  night  of  half  a  year, 

We  may  describe  ourselves 

As  some  auroral  elves, 
Who,  having  left  their  normal  sphere, 
Through  the  world  are  wandering  far  and  nigh. 


MR.  VANE. 

This  is  very  interesting,  very  definite,  and,  upon 
the  whole,  satisfactory.  But  I'm  rather  surprised 
that  they  should  adopt  that  scientific  view  of  the 
moon's  condition.  From  fairies  I  should  expect 
something  more  poetical. 


Oh  !  science  has  penetrated  everywhere ;  and 
I  may  say  that  Iceberg  Fairies  are,  as  a  rule, 
nothing  if  not  scientific. 


102 


MR.  VANE,  with  conviction. 

True.  (From  moment  to  moment,  various  in 
scriptions  reveal  themselves  on  the  sides  of  the 
iceberg,  as  "  St.  Jacob's  Oil  Conquers  Pain'' 
"Anti-Fat"  "Burdock  Blood  Bitters"  "Rock 
and  R\e"  etc.)  I  observe  that  they  seem  to  have 
adopted  several  of  our  popular  remedies  at  the 
North  Pole. 


CAPTAIN. 

There's  a  great  deal  of  rheumatism  there,  and, 
with  an  exclusive  meat-diet,  the  blood  needs 
purifying  in  the  spring.  You'll  find  the  whole 
North  Pole  painted  over  with  patent-medicine 
advertisements  in  the  American  fashion. 

MR.    VANE. 

Ah  !  that's  an  additional  motive  for  not  discov 
ering  it.  Well,  Muriel,  I  suppose  there's  no  occa 
sion  for  further  delay.  Shall  I  speak  to  these  ladies, 
or  will  you  ? 

MURIEL. 

Perhaps  /  had  better,  papa,  as  they  seem  stran 
gers.  (She  advances  to  the  rail  of  the  steamer 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  1 03 

next  the  iceberg^]  Hmm  !  Let  me  see  !  Whom 
shall  I  ask  for?  Oh  !  Why,  of  course  !  Ladies, 
can  any  of  you  tell  me  if  the  queen  is  at  home  ? 

THE  ICE  PRINCESS,  advancing  politely. 
Miss  Vane? 

MURIEL. 

Yes.     The  Ice  Princess? 

THE  ICE  PRINCESS,  smiling. 

Yes.  Mamma  will  be  so  sorry  to  miss  you. 
But  she's  confined  to  her  cavern  with  a  cold  to 
day. 

MURIEL. 

Oh,  I'm  very  sorry  !  I  hope  it  isn't  any  thing 
serious? 

THE   ICE   PRINCESS. 

Oh,  no  !  Merely  a  cold  in  the  head.  But,  of 
course,  it's  trying.  Could  I  give  her  any  mes 
sage  from  you? 

MURIEL. 

You're  very  kind.  I  don't  know  that  I  ought 
to  trouble  you  with  a  business-matter.  Er  — 
won't  you  come  aboard? 


104  A    SKA-CHANGE. 

THE  ICE  PRINCESS,  complying,  with  all  her  fairies. 

Oh,  thank  you  !  And  I  shall  be  only  too  glad 
if  I  can  do  any  thing  for  you. 

MURIEL. 

It's  nothing.  Merely  a  young  gentleman  whom 
I  would  like  to  have  you  take  with  you,  and  put 
ashore  somewhere  on  the  American  coast.  If 
you  don't  actually  touch  anywhere,  it  don't  mat 
ter  :  he  could  swim  a  few  miles.  I  suppose  I 
needn't  go  into  details  ;  but  it's  quite  necessary 
he  should  leave  the  steamer.  Theron  !  (She  ex 
tends  her  hand  behind  her ;  and  THERON,  with  his 
travelling-shawl  over  his  arm,  and  carrying  Jiis 
valise,  approaches,  and  takes  it.}  The  Ice  Prin 
cess,  Mr.  Gay  !  ( They  bow  in  acknowledgment 
of  the  introduction.}  It  is  Mr.  Gay  whom  I  wish 
to  have  go  with  you. 

THE  ICE  PRINCESS,  politely. 

Oh,  yes  !  (She  examines  him  through  her 
pince-nez  as  he  retires.}  Isn't  he  rather  good- 
looking? 

MURIEL. 

Yes,  —  rather. 


MURIEL'S   DREAM.  1 05 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

And  amiable? 

MURIEL. 

Yes,  —  rather  amiable. 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Well,  you  see,  we  are  all  ladies,  and,  mamma 
not  being  at  all  well,  do  you  think  it  would  be 
very  nice? 

MURIEL. 

Oh,  perfectly  !     There  are  so  many  of  you  ! 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

That  is  true.  But  he  is  a  Harvard  man,  I 
suppose ;  and  none  of  us  ever  learned  Greek. 

MURIEL. 

Oh  !  they  don't  learn  Greek  at  Harvard.  If 
you  will  read  the  College  Fetich,  you  will  see 
that  they  only  study  it.  I  dare  say  he  didn't 
learn  any  thing.  (To  THERON,  who  seems  to  have 
spoken.}  What?  (To  the  ICE  PRINCESS,  as  if 
explaining}  Oh,  yes  !  Athletics,  of  course,  and 
modern  languages,  —  the  german ;  it's  one  of 
those  languages  that  you  dance,  you  know. 


JO6  A   SEA-CHANGE. 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Well,  that's  very  nice.     What  are  his  principles? 

MURIEL. 

I  don't  quite  understand  you.  Do  you  mean 
his  political  principles?  He  is  a  Protectionist. 

THE    ICE   PRINCESS. 

We  are  Protectionists  too. 

MURIEL,  with  fine  reluctance. 
Oh  !     I  don't  think  he's  an  extreme  one. 

THE    ICE    PR1XCESS. 

We  are  moderate  too.  We  believe  in  a  tariff 
for  revenue  ;  for  we  must  have  pocket-money,  you 
know.  At  the  same  time,  we  are  Protectionists. 
As  ladies,  we  have  to  be  protected,  of  course. 
But  I  referred  not  so  much  to  his  political  prin 
ciples,  as  his  theories  of  life. 

MURIEL. 

I  believe,  that,  at  one  time,  he  thought  it  was 
hardly  worth  while.  He  had  been  reading  a  little 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  IO/ 

of   Mallock.     But  he  told  me    he    had    got   over 
that  in  his  junior  year.     He  is  very  earnest  now. 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

I  am  glad  of  that.      We  are  very  earnest  too. 

MURIEL. 

When  you  say  we,  do  you  mean  yourself  indi 
vidually,  or  all  the  fairies? 

THE    ICE   PRINCESS. 

Both.     Is  he  literary,  or  scientific? 

MURIEL. 

Scientific,  I  think.  At  any  rate,  he's  written  a 
novel. 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Oh,  indeed  !  We  have  written  novels  too.  Is 
he  of  the  old  romantic  school,  with  real  heroes 
and  heroines,  or  the  modern  analytic,  photo 
graphic  school,  with  just  common  people? 

MURIEL. 
I'm  sure  I  can't  say :    /  couldn't  read  it. 


IOS  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Nobody  can  read  ours  either.     Is  he  sceptical? 

MURIEL. 

No,  indeed  !     That's  quite  gone  by.     Are  you  ? 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Well,  we're  rather  scientific,  you  know. 

MURIEL. 

Why,  you  might  as  well  —  let  me  see  !  —  you 
might  as  well  wear  a  tie-back  as  to  talk  agnosti 
cism  now. 


THE    ICE    PRINCESS,    to 

I  hadn't  heard.  Mr.  Gay  could  convert  us, 
perhaps.  And  you  say  his  character  is  irre 
proachable  ? 

MURIEL. 

Quite. 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS,    Sighing. 

He  is  certainly  very  handsome.  He's  been 
abroad  ? 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  1 09 

MURIEL. 

Of  course.  But  he  isn't  at  all  Europeanized, 
if  that's  what  you  .mean. 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

I  m  glad  of  that.  Oh  !  One  thing  more, 
please.  I  hope  he  isn't  a  Bostonian.  Their 
manners  are  so  cold.  They  chill  us. 

MURIEL. 

I  shouldn't  have  thought  they  could  chill  Ice 
Fairies. 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

They  can  chill  any  thing.  And  precisely  be 
cause  we  are  Ice  Fairies,  we  pine  for  warmth. 

THE  ICE  PRINCESS,  —  An  Illustration. 

The  rose  that  in  some  winter  room 
So  frailly  grows,  so  palely  blows, 

Knows  in  its  heart  a  brighter  bloom, 
And  longs  to  be  a  summer  rose,  — 
In  sun  and  shower,  a  summer  rose. 


I  10  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

The  song  each  silent  soul  within 
That  weakly  tries,  that  meekly  dies, 

For  .utterance  that  it  may  not  win, 
-From  poet-lips  would  scale  the  skies,— 
A  poet's  song  would  scale  the  skies. 

The  love  that  lurks  in  every  breast, 
So  kind  a  thing,  so  blind  a  thing, 

If  with  a  smile  or  word  caressed, 

Would  wake,  and  rise,  and  be  a  king,  — 
Of  life  and  death  the  lord  and  king. 

MURIEL. 

Yes,  I  admit  all  that ;  but  it  stands  to  reason, 
that,  if  the  manners  of  the  Bostonians  are  cold, 
their  hearts  are  warm.  Theron,  what  should  you 
say  in  evidence  of  the  hidden  warmth  of  the 
Bostonians?  For  they  certainly  do  hide  it. 

THERON. 

Very  little.  I  know  there  has  been  a  good  deal 
of  talk  about  our  manners ;  but  I  ask,  what  if  we 
do  seem  cold? 

MURIEL,    to    the    PRINCESS. 

Yes,  what  if  we  do? 


MURIEL  'S   DREAM.  I  I  I 

THERON. 

We  make  no  pretence  of  being  warm. 


*f5BBA*f>W 

or  THF        A 

UNIVERSITY   1 


MURIEL. 

or 
No  one  could  deny  that  ! 


THERON. 

And  that  is  more  than  you  could  say  of  people 
whose  manner  is  more  cordial. 


MURIEL,  fondly. 

O  Theron,  be  a  popular  orator  !  Be  very,  very 
classic  !  And  affective  ! 

THERON. 

Muriel,  I  will  !  Two  or  three  points  have  oc 
curred  to  me  ;  and,  if  her  Highness  will  give  me 
her  attention  for  a  few  moments,  I  think  she  will 
admit  their  force. 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Why,  certainly,  Mr.  Gay.  I  will  listen,  with 
pleasure. 


112  A    SEA-CII-A\(il-:. 

THERON,  —  A  Rejoinder. 

It  is  not  where  the  greatest  smoke  is, 
That  the  fiercest  fire  is  seen  : 

It  is  not  where  the  finest  joke  is, 
That  the  longest  laugh  comes  in. 

It  is  not  where  the  winds  are  coldest, 
That  you  find  the  deepest  snow  : 

It  is  not  where  the  word  is  boldest, 
That  you  feel  the  heaviest  blow. 

It  is  not  where  the  surf  is  loudest, 
That  the  great  sea-serpents  hide  : 

It  is  not  where  the  throng  is  proudest, 
That  you  meet  the  blushing  bride. 


THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Yes :  I  see,  and  it  may  all  be  as  Mr.  Gay 
says  ;  but  we  have  never  had  a  young  gentleman 
among  us  yet,  and  I  must  take  time  to  think  it 
over. 

MURIEL. 

There's  no  hurry.  Of  course  I  didn't  expect 
you  to  decide  immediately. 


MCK/KL'S    DREAM.  113 

THIv  ICE    PRINCESS. 

No.  And,  while  we  are  thinking,  we  should  like 
to  dance  a  little  ballet,  as  people  always  do  when 
any  thing  important  is  pending.  Perhaps  it  would 
amuse  you  ? 

MURIEL. 

It  will  be  very  good  of  your  Highness.  Impe 
rial,  or  royal,  by  the  way? 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Imperial,  please.  The  queen  is  an  empress, 
you  know. 

MURIEL. 

Oh,  yes  !  Like  Victoria.  We  shall  be  perfectly 
delighted  to  have  you  dance. 

BALLET    AND    SONG    BY    THE    ICE    FAIRIES. 

With  the  tender  chords  all  muted, 
Fairy-voiced  and  fairy  footed, 
Let  us  trip,  and  let  us  glide, 
Gleaming, 

Sparkling, 
Dreaming, 

Darkling, 
O'er  the  ocean's  frozen  tide. 


114  A   SEA-CHANGE. 

Down  the  crystal  ice-peaks  swarming, 
On  the  crystal  ice-field  forming, 
Let  us  drift  like  falling  snow, 
Swirling, 

Sweeping, 
Curling, 

Creeping, 
Like  the  lightly  falling  snow. 

Then  let  silence,  deep  and  hollow, 
On  our  merry  uproar  follow  : 
Let  us  all,  like  shapes  of  snow, 
Brightly 

Shimmer, 
Lightly 

Glimmer, 
Stop  as  if  all  frozen  so ! 

( They  all  stop  instantly  ) 
I 

MURIEL. 

How  perfectly  charming  !     What  dp  you  call  it? 


THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Frost  on  the  Window- Panes.     Isn't  it  a  pretty 
name? 


MURIEL  'S  DREAM.  I  I  5 

MURIEL. 

Lovely  !      And    so    significant !      I  think  —  if 

you'll    excuse    my   proposing    it  —  the  passengers 

would  like  to    dance   a  little    now,  to  show  their 
appreciation  and  gratitude. 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Oh  !  we  shall  be  charmed,  I'm  sure. 

BALLET   AND    SONG    BY    THE    PASSENGERS. 

With  a  burst  of  music  flashing 
Lightning-like  and  thunder-crashing 
On  the  stilly,  startled  air, 
Quickly 

Forming, 
Thickly 

Storming, 
Fill  the  wide  deck  everywhere  ! 

Swains  and  nymphs  of  every  nation, 
Recking  naught  of  race  or  station, 
Mingle  in  the  merry  dance, 
Widely 

Straying, 
Idly 

Playing, 
Back  and  forth,  retire,  advance  ! 


1  l6  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

Then,  like  leaves  that  whisk  and  rustle, 
When  the  winds  of  autumn  hustle 

Through  the  woodlands  bare  and  gray, 
Hither 

Hieing, 
Thither 

Flying, 
Flit  and  flutter  and  fleet  away! 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Delicious!     And  what  do  you  call  this,  pray? 

MURIEL. 

Oh  !  it's  merely  a  little  pastoral.  I  forget  the 
name.  Theron,  what  do  they  call  this  dance? 

T HERON. 

The  Grasshopper;  or,  The  United  Gayeties 
Sociable. 

THE  ICE  PRINCESS,  with  mortification. 

Why,  certainly  !  I  ought  to  have  recognized 
it.  By  the  way,  it  reminds  me  of  a  little  thing 
of  our  own,  which  I  should  like  to  have  the 
fairies  dance  for  you  if- 


MUKIKL  'S   DRI'.AM.  I  I  / 

CHORUS   OF    PASSENGERS. 

Oh,  no  !     Miss  Muriel  would  want  us  to  dance 
again,  and  we've  had  quite  enough  of  it. 

CAPTAIN. 

Yes :  give  us  a  rest  ! 

CAPTAIN,  —  A  Demand. 

Give  us  a  rest,  for  life  at  best  is  brief ; 

For  life  is  full  of  weariness,  at  best : 
Give  to  the  troubled  heart  and  brain  relief, 

Give  us,  with  strife  and  loss  and  grief  opprest, 
Give  us  a  rest ! 

Nepenthe  does  not  grow  on  every  bush, 

Nor  wealth  await  all  young  men  who  go  West : 

Then,  from  the  world's  unending  shove  and  push, 
The  idle  turmoil,  and  the  useless  quest, 
Give  us  a  rest ! 

From  all  endeavor  to  provoke  encores, 

From  plays  on  words,  from  puns  with  wit  unblest, 
From  all  the  sad  variety  of  bores, 

And  hobbies  of  peculiar  interest, 
Give  us  a  rest ! 


US  A   SEA-CHANGE. 

MR.    VANE. 

Isn't  this  very  much  to  the  same  purpose  as 
the  song  you  sang  in  the  first  act  in  regard  to 
hiring  a  hall? 

CAPTAIN. 

Yes,  it  is.  But  it  suggests  a  less  expensive 
method  of  relief.  Sometimes  it  costs  a  great  deal 
of  money  to  hire  a  hall,  but  you  can  simply 
stop,  any  time,  for  nothing. 

MR.    VANE. 

I  had  not  looked  at  it  in  that  light. 

CAPTAIN. 

Naturally.     You    have    probably  never  been    at 
sea  before. 

MRS.    VANE. 

I  hope  you're  satisfied  now,  Matthew  !     Expos 
ing  your  thoughtlessness  before  everybody  ! 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS,    to    MURIEL. 

I  noticed  that  Mr.  Gay  seemed  to  dance  very 
well. 


MURIEL'S   DREAM.  I  1 9 

MURIEL. 

He  reverses  nicely. 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Well,  I  have  thought  it  all  over  very  seriously, 
and  I  have  concluded  to  take  him.  (She  passes 
her  hand  through  his  arm.} 

MURIEL,  faintly. 
Thank  you.     Of  course  you  will  be  kind  to  him  ? 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Very  kind. 

MURIEL. 

If  he  should  be  homesick  — 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

I  will  read  to  him,  or  sing;   or  the  fairies  will 

dance. 

MURIEL. 

And    if    he     should    be    ill  — so    far    from    a 
doctor  — 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

We    have    all    the   popular  remedies.      Besides, 
mamma    understands     sickness    perfectly,  —  she's 


120  A  SEX-CHAKGE: 

ill    so    much,    herself, —  and    he    shall    have    the 
best  of  care. 

MURIEL. 

And  if — if  —  he  should  be  unhappy?  If  he 
should  ask  —  for  —  for  —  me  ? 

THE  ICE  PRINCESS,  with  dignity. 
I  think  his  interests  may  be  safely  intrusted  to 
me,   in   every  way.     And   it    shall    be    my   special 
charge   to   see   that   my   husband    doesn't  ask    for 
you.     I  should  like  to  hear  him  ! 

MURIEL,  aghast. 

Your  husband  !  But  you're  not  going  to  marry 
him? 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Certainly.  In  fact,  —  we  Ice  Fairies  are  very 
frank  ;  perhaps  too  much  so,  —  I  find  upon  re 
flection,  that  I  have  always  loved  him. 


You    have    always    loved    him?     But   you   have 
never  met  him  before  ! 


MURIEL'S  DRKAM.  121 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

That  makes  no  difference.     Though  I'm  not  so 
sure  about  not  meeting  him. 

THE  ICE  PRINCESS,  —  ^  Reminiscence. 
Somewhere  before  our  lives  began, 
Ere  I  was  maid,  or  he  was  man, 

Somewhere  in  shapeless  space, 
Ideas  of  what  was  to  be, 
But  wholly  unembodied,  we 

Met  somehow,  face  to  face. 

That  he  was  he,  and  I  was  I, 
We  inly  knew,  but  knew  not  why, 

Though  that  we  loved  we  knew: 
Something  within  us  or  without, 
Taught  us  to  feel  beyond  a  doubt, 

That  we  were  one,  though  two. 

And  still  I  feel  that  nameless  thrill 
That  trembled  through  me  then,  and  still 

The  hope  that  then  I*  felt. 
The  strange,  dim  rapture  of  that  hour, 
I  feel  again  its  heavenly  power, 

I  pant,  I  burn,  I  melt! 


122  A    SEA-CIfANGE. 

MR.  VANE,  interrupting. 

Excuse  me,  your  Imperial  Highness,  but  isn't 
that  rather  dangerous  — for  you  ? 

THE    ICE   PRINCESS. 

What  dangerous? 

MR.    VANE. 

Er  —  melting. 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Not  at  all.  For,  if  I  were  to  thaw  altogether, 
I  should  re-form  again  immediately.  I  am  a 
Reformer. 

MR.  VANE. 
Civil  Service? 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Certainly  ! 

MRS.    VANE. 

Of  course  she  is,  Matthew  !     Don't  be  absurd  ! 

MURIEL. 

Is  there  any  more? 


MURJKL'S  DREAM.  123 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Only  one  more  stanza :  — 
And  as  it  once  was,  ceons  since, 
It  shall  be  ever,  aeons  hence, 

Whether  we  live  or  die. 
In  depths  below,  in  heights  above, 
To  love  we  live,  we  die  to  love, 
We,  we  ;  he,  he  ;  I,  I  ! 

For  these  reasons  I    propose    to    marry  him  at 
once. 

MURIEL,  politely. 

But   you   must  allow  us  to  offer  you   some  re 
freshments  first.     They  are  just  coming  up. 
(A  train    of  table-stewards,   in   red  and  yellow   tights  and 
the    ordinary    stewards'  jackets,   appears,    bearing    trays 
with  cups  of  bouillon,  and  plates  of  chocolate-creams,  and 
sticks  of  chewing-gum.     They  keep  time  to  a  march  from 
Lohengrin  blent  with  Yankee  Doodle.} 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

You're  very  kind  ! 

MURIEL. 

Theron,  what  is  it  reminds  one    so    of   Lohen 
grin  ?     Something  about  the  music  — 


124  A   SEA-CHANGE. 

THERON. 

No :  that  reminds  me  rather  more  of  our 
national  anthem. 

MURIEL. 
Or  the  dress  of  the  stewards  — 

THERON. 

It's  the  ordinary  dress  of  table-stewards. 

(  The  stewards  serve  the  bouillon  to  the  passengers.     MURIEL 
takes  a  cttp  from  a  tray,  and  hands  it  to  the  PRINCESS.) 

MURIEL. 

Will  your  fairies  have  bouillon,  or  some  of  the 
chocolate-creams  and  chewing-gum? 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Oh  !  chewing-gum,  please.  They  were  all  sales 
ladies  once  ;  and  they're  very  nervous  still,  poor 
things  ! 

MURIEL,  looking  anxiously  round. 

It  doesn't  seem  to  be  going  off  very  well, 
Theron.  Don't  they  generally  sing  at  a  banquet? 
It  seems  to  me  that  they  ought  to  clink  their 
cups  of  bouillon  together,  and  sing. 


MURIEL'S   DREAM.  12$ 

THERON. 

Yes  :  I  don't  see  why  they  don't  !  It's  very 
odd. 

CHORUS   OF    LADY    AND    GENTLEMEN    PASSENGERS. 

We  are  keeping  our  breath  to  cool  our  broth. 

CHORUS   OF    FAIRIES   AND    SALES-LADIES. 

How  can  we  sing,  witfi  our  mouths  full  of 
chewing-gum? 

MURIEL,  with  pique. 

Oh,  very  well  !  We  can't  oblige  you  to  sing, 
of  course ;  though  I  think  the  effect  would  be 
better. 

THE    CHORUS,  clinking   their  cups,    suddenly   burst 
forth. 

A  song,  a  song, 

For  the  brave  bouillon, 
For  the  bouillon  hot  and  steaming! 

We  sing  its  praise 

As  our  cups  we  raise, 
With  bouillon  sparkling  and  gleaming. 


126  A    SEA- CHANGE. 

Beef-tea,  beef-tea, 

The  champagne  of  the  sea! 
For  every  sort  of  weather, 

Or  smooth  or  rough, 

This  is  the  stuff! 
Touch  again,  and  drink  it  together! 

MURIEL. 

Ah,  I  thought  you  would  have  to  do  it ! 
Thank  you  very  much,  indeed.  (To  the  PRIN 
CESS.)  Well,  I  have  been  thinking  it  over  too; 
and  I  don't  wish  you  to  marry  Theron.  I  wish 
you  merely  to  transport  him  to  the  nearest  point 
on  the  American  coast,  and  —  drop  him. 

MRS.  VANE,  severely. 

That  is  all  you  are  expected  to  do  ;  and  per 
haps  if  you  had  been  as  sensitive  in  regard  to 
others  as  you  profess  to  be  in  regard  to  yourself 
it  wouldn't  be  necessary  to  call  your  attention  to 
a  very  well-known  fact.  And,  oh  !  if  I  had  the 
trump  of  doom  — 

STEWARD,  appearing  ivith  a  banjo  in  his  hand. 
The  captain's  mislaid  the  trump  of  doom,  ma'am  ; 
but  'ere's  the  cook's  banjo. 


MURIEL'S   DREAM.  I2/ 

MRS.  VANE,  examining  if. 

Well,    the    banjo    will    do    very    nicely,    Robert. 
Now,  then  !      Con  cspressione,  please. 

(The  STEWARD  strikes  the  cadence  on  the  banjo  at  the  end 
of  each  two  lines.} 

MRS.  VANE,  —  An   Observation. 
Oh  !  never  yet  in  castle-hall  or  bower 

Was  high-born  dame,  or  simple  damozel, 
That  dreamt  the  banished  victim  of  her  power 

Might  find  another  he  could  love  as  well. 

She  ever  saw  him  wandering  unconsoled, 

Alike  in  thronged  streets  and  deserts  dim  : 
She  never  thought  that  there  could  be  so  bold 


A  woman  as  to  wish  to  comfort  him. 

If  she  could  have  imagined  such  a  thing, 

So  very  unexpected,  mean,  and  low, 
That  should  with  shame  her  sex's  bosom  wring, 

She  had  thought  twice  before  she  let  him  go. 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

I  am  very  sorry,  but  the  only  arrangement  I 
can  make  with  regard  to  Theron  is  to  marry 
him.  I  should  be  compromised  by  any  other. 


128  A    SEA-CHAXGE. 

Mamma    would    not    hear    of    it.       (They    move 
toward  tlie  iceberg.} 

MURIEL,  decisively. 
Very  well,  then,  Theron  cannot  go  with  you. 

THE  RON,  advancing. 

Yes,  Muriel,  I  must  go.  I  have  always  loved 
the  princess.  I  shall  marry  her,  and  run  the  ice 
berg  between  New  York  and  Liverpool  in  com 
petition  with  the  refrigerator-steamships  for  the 
transportation  of  Chicago  beef.  Now  that  I  am 
engaged,  my  sole  thought  is  to  provide  for  my 
family  ;  and  in  this  I  am  sure  all  the  gentlemen 
present  will  sympathize  with  me.  I  understand 
that  the  Ice  Princess  is  an  American  fairy. 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

I  am.     I  was  born  in  St.   Louis. 

THERON. 

I  thought  I  could  not  be  mistaken  in  the  ac 
cent.  She  will,  therefore,  be  expensive. 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  129 

CHORUS   OF   GENTLEMEN. 


She  will  ! 


THERON. 

But  she  will  be  worth  the  money. 

CHORUS   OF   GENTLEMEN. 

She  will  ! 

THERON. 

Precisely.     And   for  this    reason    I  will   explain 
my  new  departure. 

THERON, —  .4  New  Departure. 

I  am  a  family-man,  — 

A  provident  family-man  ! 
And  as  a  member  of  that  great  plutocracy, 
Sprung  from  the  heart  of  our  New-World  Democracy 

1  get  all  the  money  I  can  ! 

Formerly  I  was  a  youth, 

Dreaming  of  Beauty  and  Truth, 
Tender  and  hopeful,  and  somewhat  aesthetical, 
With  an  ideal  both  high  and  poetical., 

(Perhaps  it  was  too  high  in  sooth  !) 


130  A   SEA-CHANGE. 

Now  a  more  practical  aim 

I  loudly  and  proudly  proclaim  ; 
And    whether   the    prize   you    have    drawn    in   love's 

lottery 
Be  of  an  origin  earthly  or  watery, 

Yours  I  imagine  the  same. 

I  am  a  family-man, — 

A  provident  family  man  ! 
And  as  a  member  of  that  great  plutocracy, 
Sprung  from  the  heart  of  our  New-World  Democracy, 

I  get  all  the  money  I  can  ! 

MR.  VANE. 

Excuse  me,  Mr.  Gay,  but  isn't  this  last  song  of 
yours  rather  too  much  like  some  of  Gilbert  and 
Sullivan's  things? 

THERON. 

There  is  a  slight  resemblance.  But,  if  the 
Princess  intends  to  have  me,  she  must  have 
"  Patience  "  with  me. 

• 

CHORUS,  /;/  great  anguish. 

Oh! 

STEWARD,  holding  out  his  hand,  still  more  enlarged. 
Don't  forget  the  steward,  sir  ! 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  131 

THERON. 

Have  you  change  for  a  hundred- dollar  bill? 

STEWARD. 
I  could  keep  the  change,  sir  ! 

THEROX. 

On  second  thoughts,  I*  will  send  you  an  order 
on  the  Treasurer  of  the  Iceberg  Transportation 
Company.  Well,  Muriel,  my  former  love,  I  must 
say  adieu,  I  suppose.  The  princess  is  getting 
impatient.  Good- morning.  (He  bows  distantly, 
and  gets  over  the  rail  on  to  the  iceberg.}  Now, 
love  !  (He  extends  his  hand  toward  the  PRINCESS, 
who  mounts  the  rail.}  Will  you  jump,  clearest? 

THE    ICE    PRINCESS. 

Into  your  arms,  sweet ! 

THERON,  extending  his  arms. 

Well,  then,  darling  !  One,  two,  three  !  And 
here  you  are  !  (She  leaps,  and  lie  catches  her  in 
his  arms.  The  fairies  follow.} 


132  A    SEA-CJSA<VGE. 

MURIEL,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands. 
Oh  —  h—  h  —  h! 

CHORUS   OF   ICE    FAIRIES. 

We  who,  till  «ow,  scarce  knew  that  we  were  women, 
Perceive,  each  one,  we  always  did  adore 

Some  one  among  the  passengers  or  seamen, 
And  shall  forevermore. 

(They  return  to  the  iceberg!) 

CHORUS   OF   GENTLEMEN    PASSENGERS   AND   SEAMEN. 
And  we,  who  always  knew  that  we  were  human, 

To  our  first,  last,  and  only  loves  are  true: 
Never  yet  beings  in  the  form  of  woman 

Attracted  us,  save  you  !  « 

(They  cross  the  deck,  as  if  to  follow  the  fairies,  while  the 
STEWARD  tries  to  collect  Jus  fees  from  them.} 

STEWARD. 

Don't  forget  the  steward,  gentlemen  ! 

MRS.  VANE,  detaining  MR.  VANE. 
Matthew,  don't  you  dare  to  speak  to  that  nasty 
queen  of  theirs  ! 


MU KIEL'S   DKEAM.  133 

MR.  VANE,  freeing  liimself. 

My  dear,  the   queen   is  ill,  and    in    low  spirits. 
Besides,  I  have  loved  her  from  childhood. 

MR.  VANE,  —  A  Discovery. 

Ah,  yes  !  unknown,  unseen, 

And  wholly  unsuspected, 
She  was  my  bosom/ s  queen, 

Adored,  though  undetected,  — 
Unknown,  unseen, 

And  wholly  unsuspected  ! 

Her  image  filled  my  breast 

With  rapture  and  devotion ; 
Though,  it  must  be  confessed, 

I  had  not  any  notion 
What  filled   my  breast 

With  rapture  and  devotion. 

Around  my  path  through  life, 
Without  the  slightest  warning, 

My  less  and  more  than  wife, 
She  poured  celestial  morning,  — 

Around  my  life 

She  poured  celestial  morning  ! 


134  A    SE 

And  now  to  her  I  go 

In  spite  of  every  danger: 
I   feel  that  I  should  know 

So  intimate  a  stranger. 
To  her  I  go, 

In  spite  of  every  danger. 

Farewell,  O  true  and  tried, 

And  now  at  last  forsaken  ! 
I   fancied  you  my  bride, 

But  find  I  was  mistaken. 
She  was  my  bride, 

And  I  was  quite  mistaken. 
(He  gets  over  the  ship's  side  on  to  the  iceberg.) 

MURIEL. 

Well,  then,  papa,  if  you  must  go,  be  good  to 
poor  Theron  !     Theron,  take  care  of  papa  ! 

MURIEL,  —  An  Adjuration. 

Be  kind  'to  each  other! 

Whatever  betide, 
Your  heart-burnings  smother, 

Your  enmities  hide. 

It  seems   to  me  I  was  going  to  say  something 
else.     Oh,  yes  ! 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  135 

Be  kind  to  each  other! 

Be  truthful,  and  be 
Both  father  and  brother 

Reciprocally. 

No,  that  isn't  it,  either.     Let  me  see  :  - 
To  your  loved  ones  be  tender 

At  all  times  ;  and,  oh  ! 
Endeavor  to  render 

A  kiss  for  a  blo>v. 

It  isn't  in  the  least  what  I  wanted  to  say  !  I 
was  going  to  warn  them  against  those  horrid 
things,  and  here  I  am  actually  encouraging  them 
to  behave  affectionately  toward  them  !  I  must 
try  again  ! 

Be  the  harsh  word  unspoken, 

Upbraid  not,  nor  chide  : 
For  a  frown  oft  has  broken 
The  heart  of  a  bride. 

What  perfectly  disgusting  rubbish  !  I  don't 
know  where  I  could  have  got  hold  of  it. 

To  those  fond  hearts  and  lonely 

Be  husband  and  son 
Together,  but  only 

Be  careful  which  one. 


136  A    SEA-CH-ANGE, 

It  is  getting  worse  and  worse.  Really,  it  makes 
me  sick  ! 

Look  before,  not   behind,  you ! 

For  loves  that  are  dead 
Let  no  vain  sorrow  blind  you, 

No  vain  tears  be  shed. 

Why,  how  atrocious  !  It  is  the  most  pessimis 
tic  thing  I  ever  heard  of! 

Then,  away  with  remembrance, 

Away  with  regret; 
Turn  from   Parting,  Death's  semblance, 

Turn,  live,  and  forget. 

{Bursting  into  tears.}  Oh,  dear!  The  wrong 
words  keep  coming  in  spite  of  every  thing. 
What  shall  I  do? 

MRS.    VANE. 

I  know  what  /  shall  do.  Captain,  I  invoke,  I 
demand,  your  protection.  Stop  Mr.  Vane  ! 

CAPTAIN. 

Stop  him?  My  dear  madam,  I  am  going  my 
self. 


MURIEL'S   DREAM.  137 

CHORUS   OF    LADY    PASSENGERS. 

Is  it  thus,  unkind  commander 

Of  the  Mesopotam-i-a. 
That  you  leave  your  ship  to  wander 

On  the  ocean  as  it  may  ? 
Is  it  thus  that  you  abandon, 

Is  it  thus  that  you  betray, 
Us,  without  a  glimpse  of  land  on 

Either  side?     Stay  with  us,  stay! 

CAPTAIN. 

No,  ladies :  under  the  circumstances  I  must 
leave  you.  I  have  always  loved  one  of  these  Ice 
berg  Fairies.  I  don't  know  which,  as  yet.  You 
will  be  perfectly  safe  on  the  Mesopotamia.  The 
head-stewardess  understands  the  working  of  the 
ship  ;  and  I  have  no  doubt,  that  in  a  month,  or 
two  months  at  the  farthest,  you  will  be  in  Liver 
pool.  Although  usually  the  last  to  leave  the  ship, 
I  shall  leave  it  now,  and  leave  it  firmly. 

CAPTAIN,  —  An  Advertisement. 
Though  tempests  drive  the  shuddering  wreck 

Through  the  long  night  till  morn, 
The  captain  keeps  the  reeling  deck 

To  which  his  truth  was  sworn. 


138  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

Though  masts  be  toppled  in  the  sea, 
Shrouds  snapped,  and  canvas  torn, 

To  his  ship,  as  if  his  bride  were  she, 
He  keeps  the  fealty  sworn. 

Woe  if  he  falters  !     For  the  press 

Will  hold  him  up  to  scorn 
If  he  leave  the  ship  in  her  distress, 

To  which  his  truth  was  sworn. 

But  this  is  a  wholly  different  case.  The  weather 
is  good,  the  ship  is  in  perfect  trim  ;  and  I've  no 
doubt  you'll  have  a  comfortable  voyage.  Mrs. 
Vane,  will  you  kindly  post  this  note  for  my  for 
mer  wife  when  you  reach  Liverpool?  It  informs 
her  of  the  facts  of  this  singular  case. 

MRS.  VANE,  politely  taking  the  letter. 
Certainly,  captain  :   I  shall  be  very  glad. 

CAPTAIN. 
You  are  very  kind. 

(He  gets  over  the  ship's  side  upon  the  iceberg) 

CHORUS  OF  PASSENGERS,  following  him. 

We  are  lawyers  and  physicians, 
Bankers,  brokers,  electricians, 
Publishers,  and  politicians, 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  139 

Russians,  Polacks,  Turks,  Armenians, 
Hindoos,  Arabs,  and  Athenians, 
Chinese,  Japs,  and  Abyssinians, 
Germans,  Frenchmen,  and  Egyptians, 
Orientals  of  all  descriptions, 
Editors,  professors,  students 
Of  all  kinds,  whom  their  imprudence 

In  the  mad  pursuit  of  wealth, 
Has  compelled,  tor  relaxation, 
To  endure  a  brief  vacation,- 

Which  we  come  to  spend  among  you  for  our  health. 

(They  rush  up  the  slopes  and  peaks  of  the  iceberg-,  and  clasp 
the  ICE  FAIRIES  in  (heir  arms.) 


CHORUS    OF    ICE    FAIRIES. 

Welcome,  lawyers  and  physicians, 
Bankers,  brokers,  electricians, 
Publishers,  and  politicians, 
Russians,  Polacks,  Turks,  Armenians, 
Hindoos,  Arabs,  and  Athenians, 
Chinese,  Japs,  and  Abyssinians, 
Germans,  Frenchmen,  and  Egyptians, 
Orientals  of  all  descriptions, 
Editors,  professors,  students 
Of  all  kinds,  whom  your  imprudence 
In  the  mad  pursuit  of  wealth, 


A    SEA-CHANGE. 


Has  compelled,  for  relaxation, 
To  endure  a  brief  vacation, 

Welcome,  welcome  to  our  iceberg  for  your  health  ! 

(The   seamen  on    the  iceberg  cast  loose  from    the   steamer, 
and  they  begin   to   drift  apart,  the   CHORUS   OK    LADY 
PASSENGERS  thronging  the  rail,  in  /cars.) 

CHORUS   OF   SEAMEN. 

Dry  your  tears,  little  dears, 
Left  alone  aboard  the  ship; 
Needless  all  your  anxious  sighs  ; 
Cease  to  pipe  your  pretty  eyes  ! 

We  do  not  blame  our  lot. 
Though  we  leave  you  on  the  ship  : 
With  these  hearts  that  love  us,  we, 
Safe  and  merry  all  will  be  ! 

MURIEL. 

And  do  I  understand  that  you  are  really  going 
off  with  that  creature,  Theron? 

THERON. 

Yes,  Muriel,  I  am  perfectly  serious  about  it  ; 
that  is,  as  serious  as  I  can  be  under  the  circum 
stances.  Of  course  I  can't  help  smiling.  I  am 


MURIEL'S   DREAM.  14! 

very    happy,    but    I    am    serious.      The    steward 
remains  with  you,  and  perhaps  — 

MURIEL,  /;/  reproach. 

Oh,  this  from  you,  Theron  !  ( To  the  STEWARD, 
sharply.)  You  here,  Robert?  What  are  you  do 
ing?  Why  don't  you  go  with  the  gentlemen? 

STEWARD. 

Well,  miss,  I  'ave  a  delicacy  in  statin'  the  true 
reason,  miss  — 

MURIEL. 

Poor  Robert !     And  do  you  love  me,  Robert  ? 

STEWARD. 

Yes,  I  have  always  loved  you. 

MURIEL. 

And  you  are  sure  you're  not  actuated  by  any 
mercenary  motive  ? 

STEWARD. 

Quite,  miss. 

MURIEL. 

And  you  will  always  be  kind  to  my  poor,  grass- 
widowed  mother? 


142  A   SEA- CHANGE. 

STEWARD. 
Always,  miss. 

MURIEL. 


Well !  —  But  you  would  never  be   able   to   put 
on  the  ring  with  that  ridiculous  hand  of  yours  ! 


STEWARD. 

No,  miss.     But  I  could  take  up  the  collection 
in  it. 

MURIEL. 

True.     Well,  then,  take  me,  Robert !     But  wait 
a  moment  till  I  bid  poor  Theron  farewell. 

MURIEL,  —  A  Despair. 

Ah,  truant  love  !  to  whom  I  cannot  send 

The  broken  heart  I  bear, 
This  cry  I  send,  and  would  that  I  might  wend 

As  swiftly  with  it  through  the  trackless  air. 

For,  oh !  so  heavy,  heavy,  heavy  lies 

Upon  my  soul  some  spell, 
That  on  my  lips,  in  mute  eclipse, 

Trembles  and  faints  the  secret  they  would  tell. 


MURIEL'S  DREAM.  143 

A  formless  cry  I  send  athwart  the  deep, 

For  none  can  help  but  you  ! 
Nay,  save  me  from  the  demon  of  my  sleep ! 

Come  back,  O  love,  come  back  !     I  love  you  too  ! 

THERON,  —  A  Regret. 
O  loved  and  lost !  to  whom   I  look  and  long, 

The  deep  yawns  at  our  feet : 
Wild  memories  throng,  and  tremble  into  song, 

On  lips  where  once  your  kiss  had  been  so  sweet. 

But  never,  never,  never  may  I  know 

Bliss  once  my  soul's  desire: 
The  flame  sinks  low  that  filled  me  with  its  glow, 

And  nothing  may  revive  the  dying  fire. 

In  vain  you  send  your  cry  across  the  sea : 

For,  if  I   would  be  true, 
It  is,  you  see,  impossible  for  me  ; 

For  her  Imperial  Highness  loves  me  too ! 

CHORUS    OF    LADY    PASSENGERS,     turning    suddenly 
upon  MURIEL,  wJio  runs  across  tlie  deck  towards 
tJie  iceberg,  and  intercepting  Jier. 
Ah,  heartless,  fickle  one  ! 
For  you  we  are  undone  ! 

If  it  had  not  been  for  you, 
All  our  husbands  and  our  brothers, 
Sons,  and  very  many  others, 
Had  continued  true. 


144  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

Now,  what  shall  we  do? 
Follow!     Catch  her! 
Seize  her  !     Scratch  her  ! 

Fickle  and  untrue  ! 

(They  pursue  MURIEL  round  the  deck:   she  flies,  singing.} 
They  will  catch   me  ! 
Seize  me  !     Scratch  me  ! 
Fickle  and  untrue  ! 
Theron,  love,  I  come  to  you ! 

(She  mounts   the   rail,  and  leaps   after   the  iceberg,  with  a 
shriek.} 

Ah  — h— hi 

(The   scene   darkens   till  all  is  lost  to   sight,  the   CHORUS 
singing.} 

Hush,  hush. 
Our  Muriel  raves  ! 
Oh,  cease  your  roar  and  rush, 
Ye  winds  and  waves  ! 
Our  Muriel  raves  ! 

A  horrid  anguish  seems 
To  fill  her  dreams ! 
But  from  her  dreams  she  breaks : 
Our  Muriel  wakes  ! 
Lo,  Muriel  wakes  ! 


EPILOGUE.  *45 


EPILOGUE. 

(The  scene  is  Anally  illumined  again.  MURIEL  »,/*- 
covered  sealed  i*  her  steamer-chatr,  as  at  the  close  oj  the 
first  act ;  and  every  Hung  is  restored  to  its  former  stab 

.    THERON,  tetfaerly. 
Then,  you  do  love  me,  Muriel? 

MURIEL,  eagerly. 

Oh,  yes,  indeed!     Where -where  is  the  stew 
ard? 

STEWARD. 

'Ere  I  ham,  miss. 

MURIEL,  gasping. 

Well -well -ugh!     Go    away,    please!      No; 
show  me  your  hand   first.      (He  shows   it  of  its 
normal  size  and  shape,  and  she  examines  it  care- 
fully.}     Why,    I   thought   it   had   turned 
waiter ! 


143  A    SEA-CHANGE, 

STEWARD. 

What  waiter,  miss? 

MURIEL. 

Oh,  do  go  away!     Where  is  the  iceberg? 


ALL. 


What  iceberg? 


MURIEL. 

And  the  fairies? 

ALL. 

What  fairies? 

MURIEL. 

And  that  shameless  princess? 

ALL. 

What  shameless  princess? 

MURIEL. 

But  the  ball?  And  the  decorations?  The 
flowers?  The  bow  on  Theron's  back?  And 
Carlino's?  The  Baby  Grand  piano?  And  the 
refreshments? 


EPILOGUE.  H7 

ALL. 

What  ball,  decorations,  flowers,  bow,  piano,  and 
refreshments  ? 

MURIEL. 
And  the  — 

ALL. 

What? 

MURIEL,  with  a  sigh. 
Yes  !     I  must  have  been  dreaming. 

THERON. 

I  thought   you  were    dreaming,  from  a  remark 
that  you  made. 

MURIEL. 
Don't  —  don't  leave  me,  Theron. 

THERON. 

Never,  Muriel,  till  the    church    has    made    you 
mine. 

MURIEL. 
But  there  are  no  clergymen  on  board. 


148  A    SEA-CHANGE. 

CHORUS   OF    CLERGYMEN,    suddenly   emerging  from 
the  crowd. 

Plenty  !     Sore  throat,  you  know  ! 
(They  retire  immediately.} 

MURIEL. 

Well  !     Don't    you    think   you    had    better  wait 
till  after  breakfast,  Theron?     I  am  quite  faint. 

THERON. 

Perhaps  I  had. 

MURIEL. 

Papa !  -•" 

MR.    VANE. 

Yes,  my  child? 

MURIEL. 

Shake  hands  with  Theron. 


MR.  VANE,  complying. 
Yes,  my  child. 

MURIEL. 

Mamma  ! 


EPILOGUE. 
MRS.    VANE. 

Yes,  dear? 

MURIEL. 

Kiss  Theron  ! 

MRS.  VANE,  obeying. 
Certainly,  dear. 


MURIEL. 

Theron  ! 


THERON. 

Yes,  love? 

MURIEL. 

Kiss  —  let  me  see  !     Oh,  yes  \     (By  a  sudden 
inspiration  lifting  tJie  pitg.}     Kiss  Carlino  1 

THERON,  wildly  embracing  MURIEL. 
Oh,  my  love  ! 

MURIEL. 

Well,  don't  eat  me,  Theron,  —  at  least,  not   till 
7  have  had  something. 

(The  breakfast-bell  is  heard  from  bdoiv.\ 


150  A    SEA-CUAXGE. 

THERON    AND    MURIEL,  A     Conclusion. 


THE  RON. 

The  breakfast-bell!     The  breakfast-bell! 

It  is  the  happy,  happy  sound, 
That,  at  the  hour  which  each  knows  well, 
The  whole  huge  hungry  world  goes  round. 
In  keep  and  tower, 
In  hut  and  bower, 

In  street  and  wood,  in  field  and  fell, 
We  list  the  merry  breakfast-bell. 


CHORUS. 
We  list  the  merry  breakfast-bell ! 


MURIEL. 

The  breakfast-bell!     The  breakfast-bell! 

It  rings  for  one,  it  rings  for  all. 
On  land  or  sea,  if  human,  we 
Obey  its  merry,  merry  call. 

Fond  love  may  burn, 
And  o'er  her  urn 
The  tears  of  sorrow  rise  and  fall : 
The  breakfast-bell  rings  for  us  all  ! 


EPILOGUE.  151 

CHORUS. 
The  breakfast-bell  rings  for  us  all  ! 

(They  go  out  dancing,  —  MURIEL  and  THERON  together, 
MR.  and  MRS.  VANE,  tiuo  maids,  the  CAPTAIN  and 
STEWARD,  and  the  CHORUS  OF  PASSENGERS,  /'//  couples. 
The  CHORUS  OF  SEAMEN  haul  tip  a  sail,  and  sing.} 

If  I   had  a  sweetheart,  and  she  was  a  rover, 

Haul  away,  boys,  haul  away  ! 
I'd  follow  her  all  the  wide  world  over, 

Haul  away,  boys,  haul  a\vay  ! 

If  she  said  yes,  I  never  would  leave  her, 

Haul  away,  boys,  haul  away  ! 
If  she  said  no,  I  would  go  and  grieve  her, 

Haul  away,  boys,  haul  away  ! 

For  the  will  of  a  girl  there  is  never  any  knowing, 

Haul  away,  boys,  haul  away  ! 
She  would  want  me  to  stay  if  she  saw  me  going, 

Haul  away,  boys,  haul  away ! 

Then,  never  say  die;    keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  boys; 

Haul  away,  haul,  haul  away  ! 
The  wind  is  fair,  and  we've  got  a  good  ship,  boys, 

Haul  away,  haul,  haul  away  ! 


>r  THF 

•-•V.TY 


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